The Education of Little Bear
by Negolith
Summary: The sequel to 'Untamed', and the simple story of how one Dr. M. Rodney McKay, Ph. D., Ph. D., gets the Pretender Gene.
1. I: Optimism Kills

_Author's Note: I was begining to think I should tile this "The Story That Kept Getting Interrupted". Jeez. Hammered out the first two chapters right after I finished 'Untamed', then got distracted by 'Shadow's Tale'. Started working on it again and got medicated, and that created some interesting focus issues, but I was pain free for the first time in eight years. The focus is still an issue, but it worked fine for SHORT fics and tags. Now I finally got back on this puppy. Yay. So, without further ado, the honest to God sequel to 'Untamed'. Enjoy!_

**I: Optimism Kills**

Rodney decided that _this_ international science symposium – he couldn't remember the big long pretentious name it went by this year, and half the words were in Czech anyway – held at Charles University in Prague was the best one yet. The up and coming batch of scientists who presented papers didn't seem _too_ horribly incompetent, so he actually had some hope for the future for a change. Only a couple seemed nervous after the first day when they stood up on the stage and saw Rodney sitting front and center, his eyes bright and foot twitching in anticipation of the Q&E portion of the presentation. Radek, the pussy, refused to sit anywhere _near_ him after that first day. As a matter of fact, he'd sit as far away as possible, and if the lecture hall had a balcony, he'd be up there, in the nosebleed seats. In the corner. Coward. But Rodney felt cheated in that he only got one person to storm off the stage during the five day affair, his notes flying every which way as he cussed in Chinese. And thanks to watching 'Firefly', Rodney even _recognized_ a few words in the tirade. Then his brain promptly went off on a tangent and wondered if anyone else thought Dr. Keller looked like the mechanic….

A rapid knock on the connecting door brought him back to the present and he opened it to find Zelenka grinning at him. Now that the symposium was over, and most of the other scientists had left the country, he was associating with Rodney again. "Ready for dinner?" he asked as he pushed up his glasses. Then he frowned. "Please tell me you aren't wearing that in public."

_That_ was Rodney's 'I'm With Genius' t-shirt, with its big yellow arrow pointing upwards. "What's wrong with this?" His voice was innocent, but the sigh and _tsk_ from Zelenka made him frown. "Oh, c'mon – I haven't gotten to wear it all week." Elizabeth made him promise to dress nicely for the symposium, and he did make an effort of wearing nice shirts and jackets with his jeans. But now they had two days to goof off before they had to head back to Atlantis, and he was wearing his comfy stuff, damn it. When Zelenka continued to frown, his shoulders slumped. He grimaced as he stomped over to the closet, pulled out a flannel shirt, and slid it on over the t-shirt. "Better?"

"Not really." Zelenka decided that just seeing the big yellow arrow was a bit to phallic, but he wasn't about to point that out. "But restaurant is dim – will work."

"Well, I'm so glad I won't be upsetting your obviously delicate sensibilities." He eyed Zelenka's nice jacket and pressed shirt with his new jeans as they left his room. "What, you looking to score before we leave?"

Zelenka just drew his head back and grinned rather smugly. "Already have."

Rodney just gaped at him as they waited for the elevator. "No way."

"Yes way. While you were being rampaging Rodzilla, chewing up and spitting out helpless physicists with maniacal glee, I was being diplomatic and supportive." He rocked back and forth on his heels a few times. "Not only is Dr. Haaslo top geophysicist in Iceland, she is also yoga master." He bobbed his eyebrows a few times at Rodney before he stepped into the elevator.

"You, you … you're just making that up." Rodney almost didn't make it into the elevator before the doors started to close. It popped open again after stopping briefly on his broad shoulders. "There is no way you scored with her." She was tall, leggy, drop dead gorgeous, and a member of MENSA. In other words, a geek's ultimate wet dream.

"She has national flag tattooed on left hip."

"Okay, now you're just being cruel."

Zelenka chuckled. "You were the one to call me Czechoslovakian Barry White."

"Yeah, and I have to agree with Sheppard on that one – the image that has burned into my brain will no doubt require years of psychotherapy to completely eradicate." They rode down a few floors in silence, Zelenka beaming and rocking back and forth from heel to toe, and Rodney grimacing. Just before they reached the lobby, Rodney twitched his head and shrugged with one shoulder. "So, she, uh, have any other tattoos?"

"Tweety Bird. But I'm not telling you where."

"Asshole," Rodney muttered as the doors opened onto the lobby. The hotel they were staying in was old and ostentatious, with tons of marble and red velvet and gilt cherubs and big crystal chandeliers and chairs with really spindly legs that shouldn't support a full grown adult, but their stay was paid for by the Trust and they didn't have to worry about the cost. The restaurant was top notch, even though bland university cafeteria food wouldn't have bothered Rodney in the least bit, and as they made their way across the huge lobby to its doors a deep, booming voice filled the place and even echoed faintly in the cavernous room.

"Radek! You sonuvamonkey!"

Zelenka reacted as if goosed, and he looked around frantically. Then his face split into a huge grin as he spotted the owner of the voice. "Pavle!"

Rodney turned around and saw a man in an expensive gray suit beaming from ear to ear. He was tall, not as tall as Ronon, but had wide shoulders and narrow hips and a five o'clock shadow that rivaled Sheppard's. His long dark hair was held back in a ponytail and he wasn't sure from this distance, but his eyes looked like they were the color of amber. Rodney's first thought was expensive European gigolo, but the slightly pronounced upper and lower canines as he grinned happily and the faint point to his ears gave away his true nature. _Oh crap, not another were-whatever_, Rodney thought. And he knew he was a were and not a vampire because the sun was still out. And he had one hell of a tan that didn't have the orange tint of a spray on one.

Pavle held his arms open wide, and a second later the two men were doing that European cheek kissing thing that just squiked Rodney out to no end. "I heard you were in town, kolega. I tried to catch your lecture, but unfortunately I was tied up with business." His rich voice only contained just a hint of accent.

"You didn't miss much, was short," Zelenka replied. He turned to Rodney and readjusted his glasses. "Rodney – I want you to meet Pavle Garov. We were roommates during university. Pavle, this is Dr. Rodney McKay. We work for same … institute. His is my boss."

Rodney buried his hands in his pockets and nodded spastically as a greeting. But that didn't keep him safe because a second later two incredibly strong hands grabbed his shoulders and a cloud of cologne enveloped him as both cheeks were assaulted. The cologne wreaked havoc with his allergies and a second later he started coughing. It wasn't really strong, but it had an odd, musky tone that made him dizzy. His eyes watered, and when he saw Pavle looking at him oddly he choked out, "Sorry, your cologne – allergic."

Pavle nodded in understanding and backed up a few steps. But his _toothy_ smile never faltered – he obviously wasn't insulted by Rodney's reaction. "Any friend of Radek's is a friend of mine."

_Well, he obviously doesn't know _me_ very well,_ Rodney thought.

"Would you care to join us for dinner?" Zelenka offered.

Rodney shook his head spastically.

Pavle smoothed the front of his suit with one hand. "I would be honored."

Rodney rolled his eyes.

And about ten minutes later he was re-evaluating his initial response. They were seated at a primo table – not the one in the dark corner they were usually put at – drinking an exceptional bottle of wine and several women were checking them out. And not just the tall, disgustingly good looking man with them; they were _all_ getting the eye. _Okay, this might not be too bad after all_, he thought as he sipped his wine through his smirk. "So, Paul. You knew Radek in college? Didn't he, um, cramp your style?" He carefully sat his glass down, afraid to waste a single drop.

Pavle shook his head as he reached for his wine. "Not at all. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact – I had trouble keeping up with him." He saluted Zelenka and the little Czech nodded modestly.

Rodney just stared at him a moment. Then he pointed at Zelenka, his finger bobbing a few times. "Oh, ho – I know what's going on. You two got together, planned this all out, didn't you? You're trying to get back at me for, for … gotta be something." He suddenly snapped his fingers rapidly. "Oh, I know – it's for making you repair the sewage treatment system last month after you had the stomach flu. Gotta be it."

Pavle grimaced but chuckled. "It's true, Dr. McKay. I was a very skinny runt back then."

Zelenka nodded. "Imagine Sheppard, forty pounds lighter, with buzz cut and retainer." He sipped his own wine and made an appreciative pout. "He was very late bloomer. Very late."

Pavle laughed and Rodney felt himself smiling at the sound. It was oddly contagious – even a woman at the next table over laughed. "So, were you an engineering major, too?" Rodney asked.

"No. Business. It's what my father wanted. Though I was an architectural engineer at heart." Pavle smiled somewhat sadly, but then he broke into a wide grin again. "But, I must say – I have no regrets now that _this_ is my principality." He spread his arms briefly and grinned rather smugly.

Zelenka coughed. "Prague? Do prdele! You've gone up in the world."

Pavle smiled, and feral was a very accurate description. "Radek – surely you remember the family politics." Zelenka swore under his breath and nodded in reply. "Accidents happen, territories change, the foundations of four hundred year-old villas eventually become unstable and collapse." He offered a sigh and a sad head shake. "Very tragic."

Zelenka actually looked alarmed. "Your father's?"

"His brother's."

"Ah." Zelenka thought for a moment, then tilted his head down and eyed Pavle suspiciously. "C-4 or primacord?"

"Cord – easier to thread through the gaps in the old stonework." Then he shrugged nonchalantly. "Or so I've been told."

Rodney glanced back and forth between the two with something between horror and curiosity. Well, actually a whole lot of horror and a little sick curiosity.

"But that is, as they say, history. Tonight we celebrate life, and old friends, and scientific discovery. So, order what you like – tonight is on me." Pavle held up his glass, and Rodney and Zelenka joined in the toast. But only after they glanced cautiously at each other. Then Pavle's jacket chirped, and he pulled out a cell phone with an embarrassed grin. He glanced at the face, and frowned. "Excuse me a moment, I must take this." He slid away from the table gracefully and headed for the lobby, and as his back was turned to them Rodney noticed the clasp holding his hair back was a pewter wolf's head with citrine eyes. He also noted just about every woman present – and a few men – watched him leave.

Rodney leaned forward. "You could have warned me your friend was a, a, a Bolshevik were-whatever." His voice was a quiet hiss.

"You knew he was vargyr?" Zelenka replied just as softly.

"Hello – pointy teeth. Pointy ears. Incredibly hairy. Remind you of someone with cowlicks from hell we both know?" His voice started to rise and he glanced around. "Do I run away screaming now? Or should I wait until after dinner?"

"No. No. Pavle is a good person. You have nothing to fear."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Very."

Rodney just stared at Zelenka a moment. "Okay. I believe that. But if he so much as whips out a firecracker, I'm throwing your ass on it." He could see the party in question returning, so he leaned back and finished his wine in one long draught.

Pavle unbuttoned his jacket as he sat. He seemed relaxed and not in danger of blowing anything up. He waved a waiter over and they ordered, and the only thing that made Rodney twitch all through dinner was the flaming dessert at the end. And Pavle's blue-rare steak. That was just … disgusting.

As they sat back with some incredible brandy Rodney wondered just exactly what kind of vargyr their host was. Might be wolf if the fancy hair band was any indicator. In a lot of ways he was just like Sheppard – tall, hairy, confident, good looking, charming. Not that _he'd_ admit that in public, even if someone was pulling his toenails out with a pair of pliers. They had a similar air about them, but unlike Sheppard, when Pavle smiled, he showed his teeth. Oh, he'd _seen_ Sheppard's teeth, lots – the man seemed to be a mouth breather half the time – but never in a smile. And he smiled a lot, but it was always that vulpine thing that he couldn't understand for the life of him why it made women giggle. It always made him think of a lecherous fratboy himself. Guess he had the wrong genes.

And Rodney didn't want to ask outright in case it was an insult. Not that that would normally stop him – he just knew vargyrs could rip his heart out without any problem whatsoever. That little bit of incentive kept his normally blunt mouth shut.

Pavle leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. "I know of an excellent nightclub not too far from here – a cousin runs it. Shall we adjourn there?" Zelenka nodded right away, but Rodney was reluctant after the 'cousin' comment. "Oh, come, Rodney – it is _the_ hot spot right now. All the models frequent there."

"M … models?" The corner of Rodney's already crooked grimace rose a little higher. He could see Zelenka's eyebrows rise out of the corner of his eye.

Pavle nodded, but then he pointed at Rodney's attire. "You may want to get rid of that plaid … thing. It is … loud."

Rodney noticed he didn't say anything about the t-shirt. He flashed a smug smirk at Zelenka. "Gimme a sec – I'll go get my jacket."

-oOo-

The club was about four blocks away – walking distance – and was loud and crowded with one helluva line out front. But the two _very_ big follicularly challenged doormen smiled at Pavle (that sight alone was frightening enough because Rodney swore their teeth were, well, _green,_ but it could have just been reflection from the neon sign) and let them on in. The music was played at ear-bleeding levels, and people jostled Rodney even when he wasn't trying to move. The warring smells of perfumes and colognes had him sneezing every ten minutes until his nose plugged up, then it wasn't too bad. The drinks were overpriced and under potent, but Pavle was still footing the bill and after a few hours they were potent enough and had pretty much killed off his claustrophobia.

And the women…. Good lord, Rodney had never seen so many tall, leggy, gorgeous women in his life. All thoughts of Dr. Haaslo and her Tweety Bird were wiped from his head in a matter of minutes. And they all seemed to flock to Pavle and their little group in droves. He was like a freakin' Pied Piper of P…. No, he couldn't finish the thought because all he could picture was Ronon calling Sheppard that same thing and it just created really weird images in his incredibly inebriated brain right now. Pavle also explained at one point that since Prague was now the Hollywood of Eastern Europe, there were lots more beautiful women than ever before. But Rodney didn't really care, because for once the really beautiful women were paying attention to _him_ for a change.

It was turning out to be one of the best nights of his life.

"Hey, Radek – how'd you wind up with such a cool friend?" he bellowed into the little Czech's ear from about, oh, two centimeters away. Personal space was a fart in the wind right now thanks to both the sound and alcohol level.

Pavle was the one who answered. "Radek is big brother to me. I wouldn't have survived first year university without him." He wrapped one arm very easily around his "big" brother's neck – Radek only came up to his armpit – pulled him in and gave him a big kiss on the top of his head. Radek rattled his lips in a drowned out raspberry as he waved him off and readjusted his glasses before he lost them completely.

Rodney had noticed that as the evening progressed that Pavle's command of English, and his accent, deteriorated and intensified respectfully with every successive drink. Now he kept thinking of them and Schwartzenegger and DeVito, and if he had anymore _he'd_ probably be calling them that before the night was out.

A curvy brunette that was currently pouting because she got usurped from Pavle's arm by a willowy redhead grinned at Rodney (a part of his mind registered she had pointy teeth, but another part of his body overrode any coherency at the moment) and a second later she was dragging him towards the dance floor. Well, it was _supposed_ to be a dance floor, but there were so many people it was more like a pogo floor. That suited Rodney just fine – he didn't have to resort to his usual embarrassing spastic duck dancing. He could just stand there and bob his head and that was perfectly acceptable. The brunette, however, was pogoing quite enthusiastically to the Euro-techno music and Rodney decided he was the luckiest physicist in the world right now. And that he was shallow – oh God, so incredibly shallow. He grinned like a maniac and decided he was going to hell as he bobbed his head in time to the beat and her chest.

Apparently the song ended – he couldn't tell because the DJ just spun one overly synthesized song into the other and they all sounded alike to him – because she was dragging him back to Pavle and Radek. The redhead was now draped on Zelenka and playing with his wispy hair, and a blonde was now on Pavle's arm.

And that was pretty much how the night continued. Around three a.m. they finally stumbled out of the club, which was still going strong, and started the drunken stagger back to the hotel. Pavle and Zelenka were supporting each other and singing "Girls, Girls, Girls" in Czech and it sounded … really odd. Rodney wasn't feeling too well – the last few shots may have been a mistake – and he was lagging a few steps behind. By the time they went a block and the song had changed to "Dr. Feelgood", he was more like thirty feet behind. As he passed the entrance to an alley, the smell that wafted out finally made his stomach rebel. He lurched up to a wall, braced his hands, and started heaving onto the pile of garbage that was at his feet.

It took a moment for his brain to register that the pile of garbage was moving. Then it was cussing – well, he was pretty sure it was cussing because it wasn't in English and sounded really, really pissed. Rodney tried to quit barfing – but hey, involuntary action there – and did manage to at least turn his head aside, but the damage was done. The homeless person glared up at Rodney with reddened eyes, his mouth foaming with the words he was growling out. Then it sunk in – he was just plain _growling_ now.

Rodney backed up quickly, his hands out and waving spastically in both supplication and a frantic get-the-hell-away-from-me motion. "Oh, hey, sorry – didn't see…." Then through the inebriated fog he realized that the guy's eyes weren't just red, they were _reflecting_ red in the dim light. "Oh, crap." At least the sudden stab of fear made his nausea go away.

Zelenka suddenly appeared in the head of the alley. "Rodney? What are you doing? Watering dumpster?"

The second he spoke the previously mistaken pile of garbage lunged forward, low to the ground and inhumanly fast. Rodney let out a rather girly scream a second later as the homeless person latched onto one leg and he felt both fingernails and teeth sink into his ankle. He fell on his ass, his teeth clattering together hard and just missing his tongue, and tried to back up, but the growling smelly mass latched onto his left ankle was still there. He yelled when he felt a sharp pain and he just started kicking with his free leg. "Get it off! Get it off!"

Zelenka just stood there with his mouth open, then a second later a gray blur flashed past him. Pavle was there in a heartbeat and was reaching down to pull the man off just as he shook his head. Rodney let out a howl of absolute agony and Pavle let out a basso growl that was so not human. He wrapped his hands around the homeless man's shoulders and yanked, and Rodney howled again as both his jeans and skin tore under fingernails and teeth. Pavle hurled the man hard against a wall with bone crushing force. The man fell to the ground in a heap, but he was still growling and twitching and trying to crawl towards them. Pavle calmly walked over, wrapped his hands around the grimy head, and twisted. There was a sickening crunch and the growling stopped.

Rodney was curled up in a ball and holding his left leg and groaning. Zelenka dropped down on his knees next to him. "Rodney? Are you all right?"

"The crazy sonuvabitch _bit_ me!" The words came out very panicked and high pitched. "Bit me! I think I'm gonna puke." And he just turned his head and did, and very little came out since most was back on the dead man.

Pavle came over and knelt down, too. He took one look at Rodney's ankle and pulled out his cell phone. "We need to get you to a hospital." He dialed and spoke quickly into his phone, and funny – he sounded pretty damn sober now.

"You, you killed him," Zelenka said quietly as he stared at the pile of rags and dirty flesh a dozen feet from him.

"He wasn't human," Pavle replied the second he closed his phone.

Rodney felt his stomach get really cold and he could hear himself asking as if from a long distance, "What was he, exactly?"

"Vargyr."

Just before he passed out Rodney thought, _This is the _worst_ night of my life_.

_End Note: And only Rodney would puke on a crazy vargyr. Just his luck...._


	2. II: Rat Cajones

_Author's Note: This one's kinda short. Sorry. But hey, if it helps, I patterned Pavle after Adrian Paul (Duncan McLeod). Drool...._

**II: Rat Cajones**

Rodney stayed unconscious until the hack that was supposedly a doctor began scrubbing out and disinfecting the punctures and scratches on his ankle. Then he came to, swearing, calling Carson a glorified veterinarian who wasn't even qualified to give a sheep an enema before his brain sorted out the fact that, one: it wasn't Carson who was currently staring at him with an expression that was equal parts horror and contempt, and two: Pavle had said he was bitten by a vargyr.

A homeless, dirty, nasty, disgusting, puke covered vargyr.

The doctor – who reminded Rodney of Charles Durning after a ten year long bender for some reason – seemed to lose his ability to understand English after the third time he yanked his leg away and insisted on cleaning the wound himself. But Zelenka showed up and kept him occupied, and the doctor went back to work albeit none too gently. "They're going to have to amputate when we get home, I just know it," Rodney groaned out. Then he hissed and jerked. "Hey, what are you using down there? Steel wool and sulfuric acid?"

"Rodney, be still. He is almost through." Zelenka looked like he wanted to talk, but not with company present. Then the doctor and a hairy male nurse were wrapping his ankle, and a few minutes later they were alone.

"Oh, God – is he sure it was a, a vargyr that bit me?" Rodney sat up, the panic very clear in his voice and eyes as he stared down at his split pants' leg and the white gauze around his ankle. Hell, around half his freakin' shin. When Zelenka nodded he groaned. Well, he had to admit one thing – pure ball clenching fear was sobering him up pretty damn quickly.

"Rodney, listen to me – you may be all right. If it was regular vargyr, you'll just have nasty wound, heal up fine in a couple weeks."

Rodney glowered at him, his mouth drawn in a crooked line. "You said 'regular vargyr'. What do you mean by that? Are there, what – irregular vargyrs? Do they change with a, a, a, a, a glass of Metamucil instead of the full moon? What the hell are you talking about?" His voice was rising in panic again and Zelenka tried to shush him.

"Rodney, please…."

"Yes, please, Dr. McKay, calm down," Pavle said gently as he stepped behind the little curtained off area. His hair had come a little loose and his tie was gone, but he still looked disgustingly put together. "You were bitten by a vargyr, yes." He spoke softly so others wouldn't overhear. "But I could not tell which kind he was through all the filth. His scent was masked, unidentifiable, and he had no clan markings."

Rodney moaned. "'Which kind?' Just exactly how many kinds are there?" His voice was quite high again.

Pavle quickly glanced through the curtain – they were pretty much alone in this little area of the ER. He met Rodney's wide eyes. "There are three kinds. There are the true born, such as myself." He kept his voice down, soft, and soothing for Rodney's sake.

"And John," Radek added softly with a nod.

Pavle glanced at him and frowned briefly. "Our kind can only create vargyr the old fashioned way." He made a suggestive little hip thrust then shrugged and smiled a little sheepishly. He rubbed the side of his nose. "The second is a cursed vargyr, which most people mistakenly call lycanthropes, which really is not important right now," he finished quickly when he saw Rodney scowl. "Their change is dictated by the moon, can be killed by silver, just like myths." Now he frowned miserably. "_They_ can create others through a bite."

"Oh, God," Rodney groaned and came close to passing out again.

Pavle held up his hands. "You may not be infected, but you will know soon enough."

"What's going to happen?" The question came out in a squeak.

"You'll get very sick, like the flu. Then things will start … changing. Your senses will become sharper, your strength greater."

"How long?" Rodney had to clear his throat. "How long before …."

"A few days. Then at the next full moon…." He just let the statement hang.

Rodney had to lie back down on the table as the world swam. He put an arm over his eyes. "What's the third kind? You said there were three."

"Charmed. People who can change with magic. They are very rare." Then it was his turn to ask a question. He looked at Zelenka, eyebrows lowered. "Who is John?"

Rodney lowered his arm and he and Zelenka glanced at each other nervously. Then Zelenka cleared his throat. "He is a friend of ours. Coworker. He is a … black panther when he changes. Not with the moon."

Pavle blinked, then his eyes narrowed a fraction. "What is his house name?"

Zelenka shrugged. "He is an exile, I believe. No house." At least that was what Teyla had told him.

"Sheppard?" The surprise in his voice was loud and clear.

Now it was Rodney and Zelenka's turn to blink. "You've heard of him?" Rodney asked.

"I've heard of the family." Pavle smiled at Rodney, but it was a _worried_ smile. "I, ah, am sure you will be safe." His voice as well as his eyebrows rose at the end as he grimaced.

"Whoa, whoa, hey – I don't like the sound of _that_." Rodney's panic was starting to come back. And judging from Zelenka's wide eyes, he didn't find that too reassuring, either.

"He is a good person," Zelenka added a moment later. "I am sure no harm will come to Rodney."

Pavle just studied his friend in silence for a moment, then he sighed. "I hope you are right. If you do change – and I'm not sure at this point that you will – you will need to be very careful. It is universal clan law to kill any cursed vargyr who attack humans openly." Now Pavle looked almost heartbroken. "And their by-blows, if uncontrolled," he added quietly.

Rodney swallowed and his throat clicked it was so dry.

-oOo-

Rodney was released shortly after that with a bottle of antibiotics and some painkillers and more than likely an unspoken request from the sour-faced doctor to never come back. Pavle returned them to their hotel in the back of a Rolls with a promise to check in with them later – he was going to have his people see if they could find anything on the man in the alley. Then he was gone on the soft hiss of tires on the cobblestone street.

Rodney got a few odd looks as he limped across the lobby, his complexion sallow and his hair sticking out, his fingers testing the area under his ears. "My glands feel swollen." He looked at Zelenka. "Feel these – do they seem swollen to you?"

"Rodney, I am not feeling your glands." Then he grimaced in horror at what he just said and actually moved a step away.

Then, as they were waiting for the elevator, Rodney had his hand on his forehead. "I think I have a fever."

Zelenka rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

They kept the connecting doors to their rooms cracked just in case Rodney really did get sick, but shortly after getting back to their rooms, both men collapsed after their long night.

Rodney more so. He took some of the pain pills and slept for twelve hours straight, and when he finally woke up it was the smell of dinner that brought him around. He didn't bother with a shower – he just pulled some pants on over his boxers, and still in his "I'm With Genius" t-shirt shuffled into Zelenka's room. Pavle was there, and they had quite the room service feast spread out on the small table. Zelenka took one look at Rodney's painful squint, filled a cup of coffee from the carafe, and handed it to him.

"How are you…," Pavle started to say but was shushed by Rodney.

The coffee wasn't too overly hot, and Rodney drank the cup down in one long setting. Then he handed it back to Zelenka, who promptly refilled it. Only after he downed that second one did Rodney finally speak. "Oh, God – I can still feel that bass line in my head." He sat down gingerly in the chair by the table that was obviously open for him and held his cup out again. Zelenka refilled it, then handed him some kind of stuffed roll thing. Rodney bit into it automatically, then made a pleased little _huh_ and was soon chewing away ravenously.

They let him eat in silence for awhile before Pavle asked his question again. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungover." He casually glanced down at his left ankle. "Nope, didn't imagine it." His entire body just slumped. "Oh, I am so screwed." He leaned forward and put his head on the table. "Just shoot me now." Then his hand came up and he searched blindly until he came up with a butter knife. "Here – this is probably silver. Put me out of my misery."

"Ignore him – he is a drama queen before caffeine fully kicks in," Zelenka said to Pavle.

"Hello. Right here," came Rodney's slightly muffled reply.

Pavle chuckled as he took the butter knife from Rodney. "I am sure we won't need to resort to such drastic measures." He rolled his eyes and shook his head at Zelenka over Rodney's back.

Rodney's head came up, his eyes bright from hope. Or then, it could have been from pain. "You found out he wasn't vargyr?"

"He was, that hasn't changed." Pavle sat the knife down out of Rodney's reach. He grimaced apologetically. "We were not able to find out anything about him other that he had been seen in that area off and on for the last four months. And that the other street people avoided him. Said he was šílený." He twirled a finger by his temple for emphasis. "And obviously very old. I am certain we will find out who and what he is."

Rodney groaned. "Yup, I'm screwed." He reached out and grabbed another of the stuffed rolls. "Knowing my luck, I'll become a wererat." He chewed sullenly.

"There is really nothing wrong with being a wererat." Pavle shrugged. "They are actually hearty people – they have the longest life span of the vargyr. And the males." Pavle made an impressed sound in the back of his throat. "Have you _seen_ a regular rat?"

Rodney's shoulders slumped and he gave Pavle a disgusted look. "Great, I'll be a well hung freak of nature."

Pavle laughed and clapped Rodney on the shoulder. "I'm sure whatever you become, you will find some way to persevere. You're an intelligent man…."

"Brilliant, actually."

Zelenka rolled his eyes, but Pavle acquiesced with a nod. "Yes, brilliant. I am certain that if worse comes to worse, you will survive." He tapped his chest. "I can feel it in here."

Rodney hoped that was the case.

-oOo-

Rodney spent the rest of their short stay at the hotel, having a one man pity party and taking full advantage of room service, while Zelenka took in some of the sites with Pavle. When it came time to leave, Pavle took them to the airport in his Rolls. Rodney still hadn't gotten sick, and they were all taking that as a _good_ sign.

They stood inside, their luggage already on its way to the plane, and looked at each other. Pavle held his arms wide again, and he and Zelenka bussed cheeks. "It was good seeing you again, old friend. You have my number – call if you ever need anything. My door is always open to you, big brother."

"Díky," Zelenka said. "Perhaps next vacation."

"I will hold you to that." Then Pavle turned to Rodney.

Rodney tensed – he knew it was coming. Sure enough, his cheeks got assaulted once again. At least he had backed off on the cologne this time.

"Dr. McKay – I am heartbroken your stay in my city turned out so badly." He still had his hands on Rodney's shoulders and he gave them a squeeze. Then he lowered his voice. "If things turn out badly with the Onca, rest assured that there will always be a place for you here, under my protection, should you ever need it."

Rodney was actually struck speechless at the deep sense of foreboding that little statement caused. "Um, thanks."

Pavle gave his shoulders one more squeeze then let go. "Safe journey, friends." They nodded back and he left.

Rodney watched him leave, then turned to Zelenka. "Are all vargyr like him?"

Zelenka stuck his lips out in a faint point and shook his head. "No. We are fortunate in knowing a few of the _good_ ones."

_End Note: Rodney, such a drama queen. Sigh._


	3. III: TransAtlantic Vomit Comet

_Author's Note: Seems like y'all are enjoying this so far. Except for Rodney, that is...._

**III: Trans-Atlantic Vomit Comet**

Rodney didn't start getting sick until they were crossing the Atlantic. At first he thought his puking was a result of the flight-school flunkie of a pilot who was managing to hit every pocket of turbulence between England and New York, treating the 777 like it was a quarter driven rusting ride sitting outside of a convenience store that only delighted kids under the age of two. But then the chills and fever started settling in, and Rodney started to get worried. He and Zelenka just assured the flight attendants that he had eaten something bad while awaiting their flight at Heathrow. If they told them the truth, they'd probably be met in New York by the CDC, Homeland Security, and just possibly even the ASPCA.

Because of the turbulence and bad weather they missed their connecting flight to Seattle and had to spend the night, which suited Rodney just fine. They got to their hotel, and before Rodney collapsed he looked down at his ankle and thoroughly expected wisps of smoke to be trailing up from the bandage it was burning so bad. Zelenka ventured out to a drug store and got some supplies to clean and re-wrap the wound. The skin around the bite and punctures was red, but not livid, and it did feel a little better once they got it cleaned and under fresh gauze. Then he promptly collapsed and didn't wake until Zelenka was shaking his shoulder the next morning.

Rodney didn't puke on the way to Seattle only because he felt too shitty to even eat. That worried Zelenka – the man was always eating thanks to his hypoglycemia. Between him and Ronon half of the cafeteria staff had ulcers and borderline inadequacy issues, so if Rodney was too ill to eat, he was _really_ ill. He pretty much slept through the entire flight, the only time he was awake was when Zelenka was forcing water and Tylenol in him to keep the fever under control, and when they landed at SeaTac he almost couldn't wake him up at all. But Rodney came to, his face incredibly pale, his eyes sunken and red, and his skin practically molten. "Come on – we're almost home, Rodney. Then Carson can help you."

"I love Carson," Rodney mumbled as he shuffled groggily towards the exit. "Have I ever told you that?"

"No, you haven't," Zelenka replied, his worry shooting up into, oh, near Earth orbit. He patted Rodney on the shoulder and led him to the door since he was about to overshoot it and head for the cockpit. "I am sure he will be happy to hear that."

"He's my bestest friend in the whole world."

Zelenka was able to commandeer an electric cart to carry them and their luggage to the private hangar where the Atlantis helicopter would be waiting for them. He came around the corner and let out a heavy sigh when he saw it there. He stopped the cart and nudged Rodney who was currently leaning against him and about to drool on his shoulder. "Wake up – we're here."

Rodney snorted, sat up, and blinked wearily at his surroundings. "This doesn't look like home," he whined. Then he saw Sheppard approaching, and grimaced. "Look at him, in his sunglasses, swagger, and just-crawled-out-of-someone's-bed hair. Seriously – has anyone even been laid since he showed up? I saw him on that table – he ain't no, no, no wererat."

"Uh, Rodney, that was out loud."

Rodney blinked at Zelenka. "Oh." He held a shaky hand to his forehead.

John grinned at the two of them. "Welcome back, docs. Whoa – McKay. Looks like someone partied too hard in Prague. I didn't think that was possible." He went right for the luggage and started to pick it up while Zelenka helped Rodney out of the cart. Then John suddenly froze, his head snapping towards Rodney. He sniffed the air, then dropped the bags on the tarmac and leaned forward, face tense. "McKay – what happened?" He actually _sniffed_ Rodney this time, and the physicist shied away from him and nearly fell over. Zelenka caught him, and John fixed his attention on him. "Radek, what the hell happened?" he asked through his teeth

"He was … bitten."

Now John was right in front Rodney, and he flinched away again. He held the back of his hand against Rodney's cheek and frowned. "Christ – you're burning up. How long ago, Rodney?" His voice was still tight, but soft and very concerned.

Rodney held up a hand and waggled his fingers. "Five days 'go." Then he frowned. "I think." He glanced at Zelenka and saw him nod. "Yup. Five days. Pavle should have used the knife." Then his knees buckled.

John scooped him up like he didn't weigh more than a child and hightailed it to the Sikorsky. Radek was right next to him and got the door to the passenger compartment open for him. John climbed in and gently laid Rodney on the floor. He took off his jacket and rolled it up, and while he was putting it under Rodney's head he said, "When did the fever kick in?"

"Yesterday morning, about half an hour after we left Heathrow."

"Do you know what bit him?" John was pulling the first aid kit off the wall. He opened it and pulled every chemical ice pack he could find. There were only three. He tossed one to Zelenka. "Behind his neck."

As Zelenka popped the inner packet and shook it he said, "We don't know. Only thing we know was he was vargyr. Pavle couldn't tell if he was true or cursed." He slid the pack under Rodney's neck.

"Who's Paul?" John worked his two packets, then shoved them in Rodney's armpits. Rodney moaned softly but that was all.

"Friend of mine. He's a vlkodlak prince – we went to university together."

John actually stopped for a second. "Really? Huh." Then he smirked. "No wonder why you weren't too shocked by my true face – you've been around vargyrs before." Zelenka nodded and readjusted his glasses. "Well, if he wakes up, try to get some more Tylenol and water in him – there are some bottles under that seat in the cooler. I'll get us home in record time." Then he ducked out to retrieve the luggage, and within twenty minutes they were airborne.

And he shaved twelve minutes off the travel time to Atlantis – Lorne was going to be so jealous. He had called ahead, so when he brought the Sikorsky down there was a med team waiting for them. Before the rotors had even completely spun down Lorne was throwing open the passenger compartment door and helping Radek and Carson pull Rodney out and getting him on a gurney. Rodney muttered something about he couldn't take the final today because he wasn't in the right pair of underwear.

Carson let out a short, nervous chuckle as he stuck a thermometer in Rodney's ear. Rodney giggled and said, "Not now, Sheila."

"Who the hell is Sheila?" Lorne muttered as he backed away to let the med personnel work.

Carson shrugged, then the thermometer beeped. He looked at the reading and frowned. "One-oh-four point nine. Crap. Let's move it, people." They jogged the gurney to the door.

Zelenka took his glasses off and ran a hand down his face. As he put them back on he saw Lorne semi-frowning at him. "What happened, Radek?"

John came around the chopper and stopped by them. He heard Lorne's question. "Guess Rodney got bitten by a vargyr." He crossed his arms and looked at Zelenka. "Spill."

Zelenka studied John a moment – he looked really pissed, but all he could read from him was pure concern and just a tiny bit of fear. So Zelenka told them of their night out with Pavle, and the attack in the alley.

John scrubbed hard at his mouth, then put his hands on his hips. "Well, if he makes it through the fever, he'll survive. Crap."

"Pavle said it is clan law to kill by-blows." Zelenka frowned worriedly. "Is that true?"

John found even Lorne watching him closely. He sighed. "Usually, yeah. But this island isn't under any clan jurisdiction, now, is it?" He felt the relief come off Zelenka in one massive blast. He clapped the scientist on the shoulder, then gave it a squeeze. "And I promise to help him get through this. So don't worry – he's going to be fine." He smiled, but from the brief furrowing of Zelenka's eyebrows he could tell the man picked up on his own stab of anxiety before he clamped down on it. "C'mon – I'll help carry your stuff in. Then we can go see how he's doing."

-oOo-

As they entered the infirmary twenty minutes later they heard an inarticulate yell they easily recognized as Rodney, shortly followed by a strangled, "Why did you put an ice pack _there_?" Lorne and Zelenka couldn't hear Carson's reply, but John could.

"Yae can tolerate a little shrinkage until we get your fever down. Understood?"

John bit down on his lips to keep from smirking.

"You are _so_ not my friend anymore."

They all heard the martyred sigh from Carson as they stepped into the main infirmary. They had a curtain pulled around the bed – a sight John was more than familiar with – but a moment later Carson pulled the edge back and stepped out. "Don't you dare move those yet, or I'll strap yae down and duct tape them in place."

"Jesus, you've gotten cheeky. Lead one rebellion…," Rodney's voice trailed off. His words were a touch slurry, his voice rough. He didn't sound good at all.

Carson looked at the trio. "Unfortunately, as yae can tell, he's conscious again."

"I can hear you, you know," came a sing-songy reply from behind the curtain.

Carson rolled his eyes and John did smirk. "Radek, let him know what happened," John said quietly. "I want to talk to Rodney. Alone." That made Carson raise his eyebrows, but John just smiled reassuringly. Then Zelenka was pulling him aside and Lorne was frowning faintly at him. "Just want to check the bite – see if I can tell what got him. If I can't, could you get Teyla? She might be able to."

"Sure."

John nodded a thanks, then ducked behind the curtain. The only color on Rodney's face was two round red spots on both cheeks, and the circles under his eyes. They just had a sheet covering him, but it looked like he was still in his underwear and he could see the lumps of icepacks around him. Carson had him on an i.v., and no doubt some full spectrum antibiotics. "Hey, buddy – heard ya puked on the wrong homeless person. Good thing you didn't piss on him."

Rodney made a face at him. "So glad you're amused by this whole thing." He ran a shaking hand down his face. "Worst night of my life," he mumbled. Then he was back glowering at him. "What do you want?"

"Can I see the bite area?" John kept his voice soft and calm.

"Why?" Rodney snapped back.

"Because I might be able to tell what bit you now that it's had time to…." He just about said _fester_, but that probably wasn't a wise choice right now. "…Um, work."

Rodney's expression went from peeved to lost little boy in a heartbeat. "You … you can?"

"Might."

Rodney started wiggling his left foot. "He got me…."

"Radek told me." John offered a faint smile and nod and pulled the sheet back from Rodney's left leg. The bandage was still clean – the wound wasn't seeping and that was a good sign. Human bites were bad, but vargyr…. "Um, don't freak. This will look kinda weird." He leaned down, closed his eyes, and sniffed.

"Okay, that is a lot more than 'kind of weird'."

John frowned. "Well, it isn't rat."

"Oh, thank God." Rodney just seemed to … sink into the mattress.

He sniffed again. It had an odd undertone, kind of like old sawdust and corn chips, and definitely not musk. "Not cat or wolf, that's for sure. Might be bear." He heard the curtain part and Carson stepped back in. John leaned in closer, his nose practically on the gauze, and sniffed one more time. "Yeah, I think it's bear." He straightened back up and met Carson's somewhat befuddled stare. "Um, checking to see what bit him."

"You can tell that by … smell?"

John grinned a little sheepishly and nodded.

"How much longer is this going to last?" Rodney croaked out.

"I don't know – day or two," John replied. "But as soon as the fever breaks, you're free and clear." Then he was distracted by the smell of jungle that sent an involuntary ripple of fur down his spine, and a second later Teyla peeked in through the curtain. She was breathing a little rapidly, like she had run from somewhere, and when she stepped in she was in gym clothes.

"Lorne informed me of what happened." She moved over by John and glanced down at Rodney's ankle. Then she gave Rodney a very calm, reassuring, beautiful smile. "How are you feeling, Dr. McKay?"

Rodney's mouth twitched into a brief crooked smile in return and he seemed to relax a little. "Really lousy." He pointed a shaky hand at John. "He thinks it's bear."

Teyla glanced at John, then held her hand over Rodney's ankle. "Forgive me – I'm going to have to touch you."

"S'okay. Doesn't hurt – just burns and itches." Rodney's speech was getting more slurred, and Carson pulled out the digital thermometer and stuck it in his ear. He frowned, and rearranged ice packs. Rodney didn't even bother with any snark.

Teyla waited until Carson was done before she wrapped her hand around Rodney's ankle. Her eyes grew faraway, and all three men saw them take on a definite coppery metallic cast. It only lasted maybe ten seconds, then she released her hold. She looked at Rodney. "He is correct. You've been bitten by a werebear."

"Huh." Rodney's eyes started to flutter shut. "So glad it wasn't a rat. I don't care how big their balls are – they're disgusting."

Everyone glanced at each other, and even Teyla was fighting a smirk.

Carson checked the i.v. and then motioned John and Teyla out. They ducked through the curtain. "Get some rest, Rodney. If you need anything, someone will be close by." Rodney just nodded tiredly. Carson waited a moment until Rodney let out a soft snore, then he, too, ducked back out. He walked over to where John and Teyla were standing a few beds away, crossed his arms, and fixed John with a no-nonsense stare. "So, being that I've never treated anyone for, ah 'were-ism' before, what's going tae happen to him?"

John barely held a smirk back. "Well, once the fever breaks, he should be fine. Most people don't survive that, but since it's already been a few days and he's still with us, I have hope." He saw Zelenka and Lorne approach out of the corner of his eye. "He probably won't start experiencing the first changes for a week or so after that. I wouldn't be surprised if he sleeps a lot, too."

"We all wish for that," Zelenka muttered. Carson rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Then the first actual transformation won't occur until the night before the full moon."

"That is in sixteen days," Teyla said.

John drew his lips in, and Carson picked up on his worry. "I'm not going to lie, doc," he said softly. "First change is horrible – if the fever doesn't kill 'em, that can."

An uneasy quiet settled over the group. "I'll brief Elizabeth. And the Colonel," Carson said, his voice thick. "They'll both want to know."

_End Note: I'm a meanie. I love it. :)_


	4. IV: Baby Steps

_Author's Notes: I believe this is the least snarky of the snarky chapter titles.... I must have been mellow that day._

**IV: Baby Steps**

Rodney's fever broke early the next evening, and he woke up irritable and verbose and incredibly hungry. In other words, he was pretty much back to normal. When Carson went to clean and re-wrap his ankle, they had a big surprise – there wasn't a mark on his pale skin.

"Oh, man – just like a cheesy horror movie on Sciffy," Rodney said, his voice only slightly cracking.

"John mentioned that may happen," Carson said as he threw the old dressing away. "He and Teyla never left your side during the last thirty hours – your fever even topped one-oh-six briefly. Scared the ever lovin' crap out of all of us." Then he frowned briefly. "By the way, who's Sheila?"

Rodney froze in the process of hunting for the bed controls and squinted cautiously at Carson. "Um, why do you ask?"

Carson grinned and found the controls – they were dangling from the railing. He pressed them into Rodney's hand. "Oh, just wondering. Every time we stuck the thermometer in your ear, you'd say something about her. Actually, no – you'd either giggle or protest. Loudly."

"Oh." Rodney turned beet red as he adjusted the bed. "Um, she was a girlfriend I had in grad school." His hand came up and flapped briefly by his head. "She had this, this thing about sticking her tongue in my ear when I least expected it. Drove me _nuts_."

Carson nodded. "Well, it happened so many times, Jenn did this." He held up the thermometer, and on the side was a label that said 'Sheila'. "So, Rodney, meet your ex – she needs to take your temp again." He waggled the thing back and forth.

Rodney grumbled as it was stuck in his ear. "At least it isn't wet and warm. Gah, I hated that."

Carson chuckled, but frowned slightly as he looked at the display. "Hmm. Still at one hundred." He set Sheila down and started checking the glands in Rodney's neck. "Well, everything feels normal – I'll check yae again in an hour. Now, let's get some dinner sent over."

"Oh, God – yes! I'm starving."

He was just finishing devouring two full dinners when John stopped by before turning in for the night. "Hey…." He took in the empty plates and blinked. "Huh, and here I was sure you weren't bitten by a wereshark."

Rodney swallowed wrong and started coughing. By the time he could speak again he was bright red and his eyes were streaming. "There really are such things?" he finally gasped.

"Naw," John replied. He eyed the crumb covered tray and grimaced faintly. "Good to see your, ah, appetite is back." He crossed his arms and smiled faintly down at Rodney. "So, how you feeling, besides ravenous?"

Rodney took a moment to drink some water. "Well, I certainly feel better than you look." He took in the circles under Sheppard's eyes, and his slightly more than usual rumpled condition. "You, ah, didn't have to, um, you know." He shrugged.

John shrugged in reply like it was nothing.

Then a horrible thought went through Rodney's mind, no doubt a flashback to those movies he'd watched with Jeannie and fueled by Pavle's cryptic comments. "Unless there was a reason why you, um …." The phlegmy grate to his voice from the earlier coughing fit kept the panicked squeak from being too loud as he pictured himself going on a berserk rampage through the infirmary, crazy from fever and babbling about Sheila of the eager tongue, and Sheppard hunting him down and snapping his neck.

John picked up on the panic and his eyes got a little wider. He held up his hands. "Oh, no. No. Don't worry – Teyla and I just stuck around because, well, we _know_ about these things. Wanted to be close in case the docs needed any help."

"Oh." Rodney stared at the one thing left on his tray, a piece of chocolate cake, and his eyebrows drew down. "You would know about this stuff." He cleared his throat and looked back up. "So – what happens next?"

John rubbed his neck. "Little things, from what I understand."

"From what you understand?" Rodney's voice rose a bit.

"Hey, born this way, remember? I've taken this shit for granted for as long as _I_ can remember." John actually seemed a bit pissed.

Rodney flinched a little. "Sorry, sorry. If I sit and think about this too much, I get more than just a little freaked."

"Understandable." John took in a deep breath. "I wouldn't be surprised if your senses change first – smell, sight, touch, taste. The basics."

"Oh, great – Zelenka smells bad enough the day after his sister sends him all the Czech home goodies for his birthday."

John clamped down on his lips briefly. "They'll get more pronounced the closer we get to the full moon."

Then John's expression did a complete turn-around. It was subtle, but Rodney had in this short time come to learn that the guy had more expressive eyebrows than a _German_ shepherd. That little raise in the center was brief, but he knew the man was worried. How he was such a killer poker player was beyond him when half the time the guy was as bad a liar as he was about some things…. And Rodney was very observant when he wasn't distracted. Rodney opened his mouth to ask when Carson came back with Sheila.

Carson did a double take at the empty tray. "Holy crap!" He bent over a little to peer under the bed.

"Uh, Carson? What are you doing?" Rodney asked.

"Checking for Ronon," Carson muttered. Then he fixed John with a stern frown. "Did yae help him?" John raised his hands and shook his head. "Well, I had Doris load enough on there to choke Ronon. Rodney, I can't decide if I'm impressed or frightened." He started to push the small table out of the way but Rodney reached out, snagged the piece of cake, and held it protectively against his chest. "Let's check that temp again." He frowned at the results. "I don't understand. You shouldn't be running a low grade fever – the last batch of blood work came back fine."

"Uh, doc?" John said. Both men looked at him. "Might I suggest you, ah, Google the body temp of a bear?" When they continued to just stare at him, he stuck his hands in his pockets. "Remember, my body temp is a bit higher."

"It would have … changed that quickly?" Carson asked. John nodded. "Huh, I'll be buggered." He tucked the thermometer back into his coat pocket. "Well, Rodney, I'm thinking just one more night for observation and you can go back to your quarters. But I'm not releasing you for work for a few more days yet." Rodney started to protest but Carson held up a finger. "Give it until Thursday, since I have no bloidy clue what to expect with this. And if you're still eating and sleeping fine, I'll consider turning you lose to terrorize your poor staff." Then he raised an eyebrow at John. "So, what am I tae expect?"

John sighed. "For awhile, not much." Then he stifled a yawn. "How about we sit down in a few days, maybe grab Teyla, and I can go over stuff without repeating myself constantly?"

"All right, sounds fair," Carson said. Rodney only nodded in agreement since his mouth was full.

-oOo-

Two days later, shortly after breakfast, Carson had a very full office. Rodney sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, his shoulders hunched and his hands clasped between his knees, for all intents and purposes looking like an eight-year-old sitting in the principal's office. Teyla sat next to him, one hand resting lightly on his arm, a calm reassuring smile lighting her face. John stood next to her, arms crossed. He was trying to appear as calm as Teyla, but his lips were drawn in faintly in concern. Carson sat at his desk, Keller standing behind him, her hands setting on the back of Carson's chair. Carson's expression was unreadable at the moment, but hers was more curious than concerned. Elizabeth and Caldwell stood side by side, a yin and yang of reaction to the strange conversation from a moment before. She was worried, frowning in obvious concern. He looked ready to start pummeling something.

It seemed like overkill, but they were all there at Rodney's request. He wanted them to know just what exactly was going to happen to the Project's head scientist, and to make plans accordingly should worst come to worst.

Though John was the vargyr, it was Teyla who provided the most insightful information as to what would happen to Rodney. In her century and a half of life, she'd been around many cursed changelings and actually knew more about them than John did. His clan was less tolerable about the cursed and their by-blows than most, and usually just killed them outright, no questions asked, no quarter given. One of many reasons why he welcomed his exile.

Now that she had finally finished speaking, everyone was watching Rodney and waiting for his reaction. For once the perpetual buzz of nervous energy that clung to him like Pigpen's dust cloud was subdued as he stared at the floor and thought. When the silence stretched into a minute people began to shift nervously. Then he opened his mouth to speak, and everyone held their breath. "So, let me get this straight," he said after a few seconds, his voice surprisingly calm. "Surviving the initial 'infection' is only the first step. My base body temperature has already changed, and any other changes will primarily be sensory." He looked at Teyla and she nodded. "Then, in two weeks, I will physically change at moonrise – regardless if the skies are clear or not – and if I can actually survive the trauma of _that_, I'm home free."

"Yes," Teyla replied and smiled very calmly at him.

Rodney actually attempted a smile back – it was more of a spastic twitch at best – and went, "Huh."

John smiled faintly, too. "I have to say – you seem to be taking this pretty well," he drawled out. He could feel the anxiety rolling off the man right now, and he was absolutely amazed at his control. He was certain Rodney would be flailing around and yelling his head off right about now. And Carson would be readying a sedative.

Rodney's head wobbled. His expression was still fairly subdued, but his eyes were very bright. "Oh, trust me – on the inside right now, I'm making Sam Kinison look like Jeff Spicoli." His hand came up and fluttered by his head, and they could all see it shaking. "My brain is caught in this, this endless loop of flipping between the complete and total impossibility of the whole situation on a scientific level, and the ending of every cheesy werewolf movie I ever watched through my fingers as a kid. So, taking it well?" He let out strangled laugh as his only comment, and several people flinched. "And to top it all off, now I get the added bonus of being deathly allergic to citrus _and_ silver. Good thing the cafeteria uses stainless steel." He'd already made sure of that little fact. "If I ever get the Nobel Prize, I'll have to use a plastic spork at the dinner. That should go well with the tux and the Waterford crystal." He noticed how bad his hand was shaking and trapped it between his knees again.

A few people chuckled nervously at the image that formed, but Caldwell killed the levity by clearing his throat. "What are the chances of Dr. McKay going on a rampage when he changes?" That earned him several irate scowls. "What? It's a legitimate question. I seem to recall a report of a werewolf escaping, and that turned out rather bad."

"He's right," Rodney said. Now he focused on John and Teyla, his raw fear evident to everyone present.

Teyla looked up at John, clearly deferring any decisions to him. "I'll be with you," he said without hesitation. "Don't worry about it – I doubt there's anything you could do that I couldn't handle."

"I still want some men present with tranq guns," Caldwell said.

"There will be no bloidy tranquilizer guns!" Carson snapped. _Everyone_ looked at him, and he ran his hands down his face. "It will still be Rodney, not some … animal." His eyes fixed on John's. "Am I right?"

John's smile was tight as he nodded. Then he looked down at Rodney. "No tranqs." He heard Caldwell grunt.

Rodney visibly slumped in relief.

Teyla put a hand on his arm. "The reason the cursed vargyrs are so … wild is because they let the animal have too much control and they lose themselves. You are a brilliant man, Dr. McKay – I have no doubt in my mind that you will remain focused and in complete control."

At the brilliant comment the corner of Rodney's mouth crooked up into his first halfway honest smile. "You … you really think so?"

Teyla gave him one of her serene smiles and nodded, and his grin became more pronounced. "I know so _here_." And like Pavle several days ago, she held a hand over her heart.

_You sure about that?_ John sent.

_I'd be willing to wager a bottle of Sidhe wine on it._

John's eyebrows twitched. "I'd trust her feeling on this one, buddy," he said quietly to Rodney.

Elizabeth, who had been very quiet, cleared her throat softly. All eyes focused on her, but her attention was solely on John. "When the … change occurs, does it affect the mind in any way at all?" He shook his head. "So we will still have the same Rodney, just not … physically." Now she looked at Rodney, and the corner of her mouth rose the tiniest bit. "Rodney the Werebear. Why am I finding that … darkly ironic?"

"Oh, thank God," Keller said in one quick burst, her eyes rolling and her hands rising off the back of Carson's chair. "I am _so_ glad somebody else is thinking that."

Rodney's mouth dropped open. "Hey!"

Keller shrugged. "Do you know how many times I've heard people call you a bear, Rodney? A lot, sometimes on a daily basis, even."

Carson had to cover his mouth, but his dimples were showing. "Aye, me, too."

"Oh, now don't you be encouraging her," Rodney shot back.

John could feel the tension level in the office drop by half, and he glanced down at Teyla. Her eyes were crinkled in amusement. When he glanced around, the only one who wasn't amused was Caldwell.

Carson sighed heavily, the faint smile never leaving his features. "Irony aside, we will be here for you, Rodney. You _will_ make it through this."

Rodney looked around at all the concerned and warm faces – hell, even Caldwell had lost a good portion of his perpetually perturbed frown – and swallowed. Sheppard even reached past Teyla and gave his shoulder a light tap just as she squeezed his arm. This show of support had him momentarily speechless. Then something struck him out of the blue. He leaned a little closer to Teyla and Sheppard and mumbled, "Uh, is this going to do anything about …." He pointed as surreptitiously as possible at his hairline.

"I am afraid not," she said quietly, but in the small office everyone heard. And either snickered or groaned. "Though it may halt its advance."

Rodney's head bobbled. "Okay, I can live with that." Then he looked at everyone and the angry grimace was back in place. "Hey, now that really was a legitimate question!" He stood up and straightened his jacket. "Are we done here? I have work to do. Lots of work – God knows what's happened since I've been out of the loop for almost two weeks. They've probably resorted to stone tablets and chisels in engineering by now."

"Aye, we're done," Carson replied. "But I do want you to check in with me at the end of the day." When Rodney started to open his mouth to protest Carson raised a finger. "Just stop by, that's all I'm asking. No tests, no blood, no Sheila. Just say hello. Understood?" The unvoiced _let me know you're all right_ was loud and clear.

"Oh, okay." Then with a defiant jut to his jaw, Rodney left.

Carson waited a moment, then looked at John and Teyla. "If he doesn't stop by, would one of you check on him?"

"Gladly," Teyla replied, and John nodded.

"I'm still not too sure about him running around without supervision," Caldwell said a moment later.

Elizabeth fixed him with a flinty stare. "Colonel, he hasn't turned into a bear yet. Returning to full duty is going to be the best thing for him right now – he's going to be too busy to think of anything _but_ work."

Carson nodded in agreement. "She does have a valid point. And right now, knowing Rodney, distraction really is going to be the best medicine."

Caldwell sighed, but he finally nodded in agreement. "All right. I expect to be kept updated of any changes."

"Both of us," Elizabeth added.

"Of course." Teyla stood then, and people began filing out, but Carson called out to John to wait up a moment. He held back while everyone else left. "Don't forget your appointment this afternoon." John grimaced. "Yae forgot, didn't you?"

"Yeah," John replied guiltily.

"We can postpone…."

"No, no, I'll be there."

Carson raised an eyebrow. "You sure you still want to do this? You don't have to, you know."

John rubbed the back of his neck. "I know, but you've gotten my curiosity piqued. See you at two." He waved at Carson and left and wasn't surprised to find Teyla waiting for him.

_Is there something I should be concerned about?_ she asked, eyebrow raised, as she fell into step next to him.

Ever since last October, while he was recovering from his injuries, she had taken it upon herself to be his personal bodyguard, as if he was still a prince in some royal house. John sighed and shook his head. _No. The doc has been studying my DNA and proposed running some baseline tests to see what I can do in human form, and in my true form._ He shrugged. _He asked me so nice, I had to. Plus … I'm kind of curious._ She frowned, and he felt anger roll off of her. He blinked, then his own anger boiled up. _I'm not being a lab rat, Teyla._

_Yes, you are. This is beneath you._

John drew his lips in as he practically stomped through the infirmary. _Haven't you ever been curious about what makes us different than just plain humans?_

_No._

_Well, I have. And the fact that we can all interbreed with each other makes me believe the differences aren't as great as some of the Pretenders _think _they are._ He felt Teyla completely clamp down on her emotions. _Yeah, there's the elitist Fae for you_, he thought very guardedly. _The doc feels the same way, and after all he did to help me, I'd like to return the favor. So what if I fill a few cups and vials, take some tests, run on a treadmill – if I can help our two races understand each other a little better, then I will. And now, if it can help McKay…._

_You are making a mistake, John._

_It's all confidential. No one is going to know._

_I wouldn't count on that._ Teyla shook her head, and John stopped. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she just shook her head again and left the infirmary.

Keller had been watching them, and she walked up to John. "Everything okay?" She watched him closely and could see he was frustrated.

John sighed. "Yeah, she's just being a … paranoid Sidhe."

"Ah." Keller glanced the way Teyla went. She had learned only a short time ago that they could communicate to each other, well, telepathically. She thought it was both cool and creepy at the same time. She showed him her dimples. "Don't forget your running gear for this afternoon. Oh, and bring shorts, not sweats."

"Um, why?"

"For the wires on your legs – we're going to study muscle function and efficiency, remember?" He nodded. "Okay, see ya later." As he walked off she grinned ever wider. Yup, seeing him in nothing but shorts and running shoes later was going to make her afternoon so worthwhile. Some days, she really really liked her job. She went back to her office, and her dimples were still present when Ronon came to get her for lunch. When he asked her what she was grinning about, she didn't say a word.

_End Note: Yes, how ironic. Huh, wonder if he'll be the only werebear with male pattern baldness?_


	5. V: The Return of Rodzilla

_Author's Note: Boy howdy, real life smacked_ me _upside the head this week. Glad I have this little sane universe to fall back into...._

**V: The Return of Rodzilla**

People were getting out of Rodney's way as he headed for his lab, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to notice the mad scrambles and frightened looks because of his murderous and slightly constipated expression. For the last two days his mind had been going in a frantic circle that started with complete denial that this was happening to him, shortly followed by there is no freakin' way this _can_ be happening, especially on a scientific standpoint, only to end with _holy crap, I puked on a werebear! I puked on it!_ The meeting today just seemed to make the whole surreal situation so much more … tangible.

Yup, Jeannie was going to think he finally snapped. Too much caffeine and deadline pressures and hypoglycemic stress and he just went … pop. Complete meltdown. Meredith has finally gone bye-bye. Madison will probably start calling him Uncle Fozzy (with some encouragement from Jeannie, no doubt, wokka-wokka-wokka).

Rodney suddenly stopped in the middle of hallway, his eyes wide and one hand going to his mouth. "Oh God, I can _never_ tell her," he muttered. And he could never _ever_ visit during a full moon. "She'll use it for fodder for the rest of her life. Or totally freak herself. Oh, that could be bad. Very bad." He glanced around once he realized he spoke out loud, but no one was nearby at the moment, and the door to his lab was a dozen steps away. He hurried those last few feet and quickly ducked inside. And locked the door.

He wasn't quite hyperventilating, but he was close as he stood there with his back pressed to the copper panels. Teyla had assured him that things were going to be fine. He would still be Meredith Rodney McKay, Ph.D., Ph. D., scientist and engineer, a man whose intellect had no peers. Well, she didn't really say that last part, but she knew. It was just that now, for three nights of every month, he'd be very … hirsute. And hopefully not having the urge to lick himself. That would be just … sick and wrong.

But he still wasn't so sure about Sheppard. Sure, he seemed supportive an all, but there was that nagging doubt planted in his mind by Pavle. "Why did he have to say that?" Rodney asked his empty lab. He wondered what Teyla knew about his family, and if she was willing to share. But then, again, maybe he didn't want to know. The guy wanted absolutely nothing to do with his family, so he should just take that as a good sign on his part and quit panicking. "No way he'd kill me." He let out a nervous laugh. "Pavle didn't know what he was talking about. He's in a separate hemisphere – what does he know?"

He actually sounded convinced to his own ears.

Rodney rubbed his hands together. "Okay, I can do this. Piece of cake." His face fell and he groaned out the word 'cake' again. He ate a huge breakfast, and here his stomach was growling like he hadn't eaten in a day. He charged through the organized chaos of his lab to his desk – it was really just a long work counter with four laptops set up on it – and started searching frantically through drawers for his stash of Powerbars. He came up with three, and was sure there were more stashed in other parts of the lab as he frantically ripped one open and shoved it in his mouth. His eyes rolled up briefly and he made a few whimpers as he chewed away. He stuck the other two in his jacket pocket while he finished the first.

Well, he hadn't eaten much while he was sick – his body was just trying to catch up. That was all. He wasn't changing. Yet. There was time. "I can do this," he said as he ran his hands down his jacket front.

Rodney quickly fired up the multiple computers and hoped going over his two week backlog of e-mails should take his mind off his stomach. That took twenty minutes, tops, and there wasn't anything of real importance – or any emergencies or screw-ups that could jeopardize life as everyone knew it in the free world. So he decided something had to be wrong and he had to take a tour.

By the time lunch rolled around he was back in fine form and hadn't thought once about being the newest poster boy for Rogaine or the Forest Service in a few weeks. Things truly did seem under control, but he found a few reasons to rant. The robotics lab was a mess – it seems that Nakamura and Grodin, of all people, got into an argument over whether or a not a fembot was even feasible with today's level of technology, and the challenge was on. When he arrived Zelenka was even giving his two cents worth, and all three started guiltily when Rodney cleared his throat – they hadn't even noticed he was in the lab. He sent them back to work on the shield generator with just a minor rant that barely got his pulse going. The thing hadn't worked properly since it was removed from Kolya's holding cells in SL3 way back in November, and if it didn't get fixed soon there were going to be some folks back at Cheyenne Mountain who were going to be very pissed. The thing was a loaner, after all.

The framework for the fembot was pretty impressive, he had to admit. But he still ordered it dismantled. Shame, really – Nakamura looked like he was onto something there.

Rodney left the lab, a jaunt in his step that had been missing for the past few days, and dug in his pocket for another Powerbar. Man, was he hungry. He came up with two empty wrappers. He grunted and frowned – he honestly didn't remember eating them. Oh well. He glanced at his watch and noticed it was close to noon, so he decided the rest of the inspection could wait until after lunch.

Rodney loaded up his tray with the main lunch dish – halibut and chips – a couple sandwiches, two desserts, an extra pudding, and barely had room for his coffee. He got a few odd looks from people as he carefully made his way to the back table where Ronon, Keller, Lorne, and Sheppard were currently sitting. Out of some odd consensus that table had become their group's table, and he could always count on someone from their little core posse sitting there, no matter what the time of day. He nodded to everyone as he plopped his feast down, and had one halibut filet in his mouth before his butt had even hit the chair.

"I'm getting a stomach ache just from looking at that," Keller said a moment later. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

Rodney just nodded as he happily chewed away. Since he couldn't chance having tartar sauce in case there was lemon in it, he grabbed the bottle of ketchup on the table and squirted some on the rest of the filet. Then he made a puddle on his plate for dipping.

Ronon frowned. "Okay, I've eaten some questionable things in my life, but that is just … wrong."

"Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it," Rodney mumbled.

John glanced back and forth between the pile on Rodney's plate, and what Ronon was still working his way through on his tray. "Have you two ever considered going into competitive eating?"

"Hell, I'd back ya," Lorne muttered.

Ronon grunted. "Can't stand hot-dogs."

"Those people are disgusting," Rodney said once his mouth was empty. "Have you ever watched those things? Gahh, the thought alone makes me about lose my appetite." He proceeded to stuff another filet in his mouth.

"Yeah," John drawled and rolled his eyes. "We can see that." Lorne even snorted and shook his head.

"I haven't seen anyone devour fish like that since that time I guided a couple photographers in Alaska so they could get some pics of Kodiaks eating salmon," Ronon rumbled.

"I thought you were a big game guide," John said as he went back to his own lunch.

"I was. But the photographers paid better, believe it or not. And it was harder work – getting close enough not to spook things." He nodded thoughtfully. "Or get eaten."

"I always wondered why a hunting guide would need to be a martial arts expert," Keller added.

"They don't call it 'the wild' for nothing." Ronon grinned at Keller, and she just rolled her eyes. John and Lorne both groaned.

Rodney suddenly started snapping his fingers, and by the time he finished chewing and swallowing he had everyone's attention. "Say, I'm not, like, getting ready to hibernate, am I?" he asked John.

"It's spring, McKay," John drawled.

For a moment all eyes at the table went to the floor to ceiling windows, the heavy gray skies and trees whipping in the wind and rain, and the gray curtain behind that that took the world away.

John cleared his throat and picked up his coffee. "It's spring – and werebears don't hibernate."

"How do you know? You're a cat. Cats don't hibernate."

"Vin Diesel doesn't hibernate."

Keller almost choked on her water. "He's a werebear? Really?"

John nodded. "Vargyr, not cursed." He sat his cup back down and noticed all the disbelieving stares directed his way. "Really."

Rodney's mouth quirked up as he realized he and Vin Diesel, of all people, actually had something in common. Okay, he really could do this. "So this, this eating? This is, um, normal?"

"Your eating habits have never been what you would call 'normal', doc," Lorne said softly over the rim of his own coffee cup.

"Oh, har har, major." Rodney stuck the last ketchup soaked halibut filet in his mouth.

"I don't know, McKay," John replied with a smirk. "But, ah, if it doesn't level out in a few days, I'd say something to Carson." He eyed Rodney's tray. "Yeah, definitely say something."

"Okay," Rodney said around a mouthful.

Much to everyone's horror, he finished his lunch at roughly the same time as everyone else. Ronon was even looking a tad green at the feeding frenzy, but there was also a new level of awed respect in his eyes as he walked with the physicist to the dish line. Keller, however, refused to make eye contact – all she could picture was Rodney as Riddick, and the image threatened to make her start giggling hysterically.

-oOo-

Rodney spent the rest of the afternoon in his own lab, his previous tour forgotten as he reacquainted himself with his own projects that the conference interrupted. Soon he was completely engrossed in his biggest puzzle – a crystalline cylinder that looked like it was designed in a collaboration between Tiffany and Frank Lloyd Wright and was purportedly a power source of such magnitude that one of these little babies, fully charged, could provide all the power requirements for the Eastern Seaboard. For _centuries_. Alas, the one he was holding was dead, and was on loan from the folks over at SGC. They'd been working with it for several frustrating years and had finally asked if he could take a crack at it. It was the only thing he brought with him from Area 51, and it was still his favorite pet project. The zero-point module.

Yeah, if he could ever unlock this baby's secrets, he was a shoe-in for the Nobel. Him and his plastic spork.

By the time five o'clock had rolled around Rodney had to call it quits for dinner. He'd found most of his Powerbars during the course of the afternoon – there weren't as many as he thought hidden in the lab – and he had to get dinner before he started chewing on his equipment. He really hoped this, this ravenous state would end soon. As much as he liked food, it was cutting into his work time, and that just wouldn't do.

He was a good boy and detoured to the infirmary. He found Carson in his office, along with Keller and Sheppard. John looked pretty tired, and he and Keller were hovering over Carson's shoulders as they studied something on the computer. Carson looked up when Rodney rapped lightly on the open door. "Um, am I interrupting?" Rodney asked as he stood in the door.

"No, Rodney – we're just looking at some test results." Carson waved his friend in. John and Keller straightened up. "So, how are you feeling after your first day of freedom?"

"Famished."

"Did you know he eats ketchup on fish?" Keller said in a rather horrified whisper.

Carson nodded. "You should see it when he has peanut butter and dill pickle sandwiches."

Keller grimaced. "Eww."

John scrunched his face up. "Huh. Might have to try that."

"You won't be disappointed," Rodney said. "But it has to be creamy peanut butter, and zesty dills."

"Okay, no more talk about … sick food," Keller said, her hands flitting briefly up by her ears. "I haven't had dinner yet."

"I bet Ronon would try it."

"McKay, Ronon would eat _anything_ for fifty-bucks," Keller said. "Lorne got him to eat a live cricket last year. In front of the Marines. One of them about hurled."

Carson started closing things down on his computer. "All right, now you're making me ill, and I eat haggis. Voluntarily."

"You win," John muttered as he stepped out from behind Carson. Keller nodded in agreement. "So, McKay – join us for dinner? Ronon is going to meet us in a few, and I want to see Doris' eye twitch when you two load up your trays."

"Did you ever graduate from junior high?" Rodney snapped. Then he saw Keller smirking as well. "And her eye doesn't twitch. Her cheek does."

"Settle," Carson said as he pushed away from his desk and stood. When he fixed his gaze on Rodney, there was genuine concern in his eyes. "You really are feeling all right?"

Rodney nodded spastically. "Just really, really hungry." He motioned towards the door as his stomach gurgled loud enough for everyone to hear. "So, let's go, all ready. Chop chop. Time's wasting."

They met Ronon and Zelenka in the atrium. And as they went through the line John paid close attention. Sure enough, he spotted a faint tremor in Doris' left cheek. Wasn't at the level of Inspector Clouseau's boss yet, but a couple more days and she might be giving him a run for his money. By the time he finally sat down with his tray Rodney was already digging into his meatloaf with Guinness gravy. As a matter of fact, it was quiet at the table for several minutes as everyone dug in. Apparently it was more than just his personal favorite.

Once the clatter of silverware and happy noises died down, Zelenka was the first to speak. "So, you are going to be a werebear?" he asked quietly enough that it didn't go beyond their table.

Rodney nodded.

"Grizzly?" Ronon asked.

"That's a given," Keller muttered.

Rodney shot her a withering glare. "Smart ass."

Zelenka chuckled and earned quite a glower as well. He pushed his glasses up. "Hmm. You are already growly and obsessed with food. Only now you will have hairline that goes to your toes a few nights every month." He pursed his lips and nodded to himself a few times. "I do not see much of a difference from now."

Everyone laughed and Rodney slapped his silverware down. "Oh, sure – pick on the cursed person, why don't you."

"If your fur is the same color as your hair, you'll be a pretty werebear," Keller added with a perky grin.

"Yeah, he'll look just like Yogi," John said around a mouthful.

"And that's more than enough out of you, Snagglepuss," Rodney snapped back. Then he glared at Ronon, who had a smirk plastered on his face. "And don't you dare say Boo Boo, or I'll have you so ionized by the end of the week your dreds will require a wide load sign."

Carson was showing his dimples. "I, for one, am curious to see what you'll look like." He cut a bite of meatloaf and chewed for a moment. "Who knows, perhaps you really will be wishing I was a veterinarian."

Rodney glared at him. "But your specialty is sheep, so I don't think that's going to happen." As people snickered he dug into his own dinner. "Surrounded by smart-asses. I really am cursed, in more ways than one." Judging from the renewed round of snickering, nobody was feeling any sympathy for him.

-oOo-

Rodney returned to his lab after dinner and buried his head back into his work. Around eight-thirty he started yawning and brewed a fresh pot of coffee – a six scoop batch that could take scale off a ninety-year-old bathtub in a skid-row motel. By nine-thirty the yawning hadn't abated, and his eyes were getting really, really dry, so he decided to lay his head down on his arms and take a break. He literally felt like someone was pushing him down into his arms, and after a few minor adjustments so the seam of his lab coat wouldn't dig into his forehead, he let out a heavy sigh and was out.

And what seemed like only a few seconds later Zelenka was shaking him awake. "Rodney? Rodney? Are you all right? Say something."

"This had better be an emergency," Rodney slurred out, his voice rough and throat dry. "Is the naquadah generator melting down? Do we have seconds to live? 'Cuz if that isn't the case, you are so dead ri…." He started to sit up but his back decided at that moment to completely lock up and the rest of the threat died in a painful strangled squeak. "Oh, crap," he moaned out and just dropped his head back onto his folded arms.

"What is it?" Zelenka's tone was very worried.

"My back," Rodney replied. But it was just more than his back, he realized after a few seconds. It was his shoulders, his ass, his feet…. Suddenly he felt Zelenka's hands on his shoulders, and the first few kneads were excruciating. He let out a yelp. "What are you trying to do? Cripple me for life?"

Zelenka _tsked_. "I am not the one who slept in my lab all night long. Now, quit being a blubbering baby and stretch. It will help."

Rodney carefully pushed himself up, and his lower back let out some crackles and pops that were definitely not normal. He couldn't feel his tailbone at all. "You're insane, I did not sleep…." He noticed the sizeable drool puddle on his work bench, and he instantly wiped at his cheek. Yup, it was wet. He looked at his watch – eight-twelve. A.M.. "Oh, crap." Then he noticed the smell of scorched coffee, and when he turned his head toward his coffee maker his neck snapped like one giant Rice Krispie. "Oh, God. I'm paralyzed!"

Zelenka's sigh came from his toes. "Rodney, your fingers are twitching. You are not paralyzed."

"Hey, it could be involuntary muscle reaction for all you know."

"And you're still sitting upright."

"Hello, back locked here." But Rodney gingerly swiveled his head back and forth a few times. His neck crackled, but he could still feel his fingers. And his back, unfortunately. He motioned for the other scientist. "Help me out here, Radek." Zelenka came over, and Rodney got an arm over his shoulders and tried to stand. His legs were half asleep, his ass fully asleep, and he lurched worse than a B-movie zombie his first few steps. "Over there." There was the cot he had in his lab for short naps when he needed them. "Need to stretch out – that'll help." He completely missed Zelenka's eye roll.

"Do you need me to call Carson?" Zelenka asked as he helped Rodney sit down on the cot.

"No. No. Just need to get horizontal for a minute." His words were damn near as tight as his back as he tipped over onto his side, then carefully brought his legs up. He could already feel the muscles of his lower back fluttering, and as he adjusted his hips several vertebrae crackled. He made another strangled sound and tried to relax. "Why are you here?"

"You didn't show up for breakfast, and the way you've been eating, it made us worried." Zelenka pushed up his glasses. "Sheppard went to check your quarters, I volunteered to check your lab." He wandered over to the coffee pot and turned it off. Then he took the pot to a sink and rinsed the thick sludge out. "Are you sure you don't want me to call…."

"Yes. Yes. I am sure." Rodney wrapped his arms around his chest, and he felt more vertebrae in his middle back pop. He kept his arms like that so the muscles along his shoulders would stretch out. He had to shift his hips again because the pins and needles sensation in his ass was really annoying as his cheeks woke up. He pulled his knees up and more things cracked in his lower back. "Done this a hundred times. No stranger to sleeping at my desk."

"But all night?"

Rodney grimaced. "No, not all night." And that made him a little concerned. All he did was put his head down to rest his eyes, and here, over ten hours later, he was feeling like he'd been packed in a milk crate and sent to Siberia, third class. Maybe Sheppard was wrong, maybe he _was_ trying to hibernate after all. But he could feel his back starting to relax as he did his stretches, which was good, because his stomach was really, really growling.

Zelenka waited patiently until Rodney sat up and did a few last stretches. His back crackled some more, and the grimaces it invoked weren't too startling. He finally stood and only shuffled a little bit when he walked. He took off his lab coat and just tossed it over his chair. "Okay, now we can go get breakfast."

Just as they were leaving the lab John came around the corner. "Oh, hey – you found him." His whole hairline moved as his expression relaxed.

"Yes, he was lips down and drooling on his desk. Not very flattering."

Rodney flashed Zelenka a frown, then scrubbed hard at his face to wake himself up some more. For some reason his forehead was numb, and as he probed at it with his fingers he heard Sheppard chuckle.

"Cool wrinkle pattern there, McKay. Kinda looks like tribal tattooing."

"Is it that noticeable?"

Zelenka snorted and nodded. "Good thing you didn't fall asleep on keyboard. We could probably read the letters right now. Plus your drool…." He made a sound like something shorting out. "Hair would stick up worse than his."

Both Rodney and Sheppard made indignant noises at the same time.

"Well, people are going to just have to deal with it. I need food."

Once they were in the cafeteria, Doris took one look at him, and her _right_ cheek twitched.

_End Note: To any Vin Diesel fans out there, I'm sorry, but there's just something about his growly voice.... Sigh. Now I need to go hunt up some Muppet Show clips on YouTube._


	6. VI: Oooooo That Smell

_Author's Note: Well, y'all should be happy with this chapter - it's twice as long as any of the others. And because some have accused me of trying to ruin their computers, please set any beverage you may have in your hand aside.... Thank you. =^.^=_

**VI: Ooo-ooo That Smell**

It took a couple days for the eating to level out back to Rodney's normal, only _slightly_ voracious level. The sleeping thing wasn't changing, however, and after a second night of sleeping on his desk he decided that when the yawns started, he would head straight for his quarters. And on that third night, he did. However, he kept up a hot, vitriolic half muttered tirade about the crazy homeless werebear that did this to him on the way there, and how he hoped he was rotting in some deep dark pit in the deepest level of hell for all the time it was making him waste sleeping when he could be working on much more important things than the contemplation of the inside of his eyelids. The poor security person who stepped into the elevator with him on the main floor backed into the corner and tried not to make eye contact with scientist. When Rodney finally noticed the man, he flashed him an irritated scowl and snapped his mouth shut and turned three shades of purple. When he got to his floor, he shuffled out as fast as he could and hoped Lorne didn't hear about that little episode.

But at breakfast the next morning he knew he was screwed when Lorne plopped down across from him, his mouth drawn into a tight lipped smirk. It didn't surprise him in the least bit. Ronon sat down next to him, and Sheppard next to Rodney. Lorne took a quick sip of coffee before he spoke. "'Boiling in a vat of pustulant effluvium until the last star winks out of existence'?"

Rodney twitched his head in a half shake.

"Why, doc, that's almost poetic." Lorne sat his cup down. "You, uh, channeling an inner Dante we don't know about?"

"I hear Henderson is still really freaked about it," John added with a smirk. He was part of the security team now, and he got to hear all kinds of things. And see things, including a freakazoid rant by the project's head geek. Several times.

"I can't imagine why," Rodney muttered. "I wasn't talking to him."

"No, but … well, you need to see the tape."

Lorne's tight little grin telegraphed tons, and Rodney felt his neck get warm as he pictured how much of a lunatic he probably came across as last night. But he had been really _tired_…. He lowered his head and just concentrated on his breakfast.

Everyone ate in silence for a few minutes until Ronon's deep voice brought everyone out of their meals. "So, Sheppard – what'd ya do to Teyla to piss her off?"

John suddenly found himself the center of a lot of unwanted attention. "Nothing." He cringed as the word came out on a high note that was not very dignified at all. He hunkered down and focused on his food.

"She hasn't eaten with us all week," Ronon said.

"Yeah, what did you do?" Rodney put an elbow on the table and swiveled to stare at John. She usually ate at least one meal a day with them, and he'd been so absorbed with his own freakiness lately he hadn't noticed until now.

"Nothing," John repeated around a mouthful. He washed the bite down with some coffee and shrugged with one shoulder. "She's just being a … Sidhe."

Lorne blinked. "And that means … what, exactly?"

John sighed, head down. "Sidhe are very touchy about their, well, 'otherness'." Then he glanced around and pitched his next comment low. "You guys know about the tests Carson is running with me?"

Ronon and Lorne shook their heads, but Rodney drew his chin back and looked both puzzled and curious. "No, I didn't," he said a second later. "So, why is she pissed about _you_ being a Guinea pig?"

"That's exactly it." John grimaced faintly. "She thinks I'm being a sell-out, that I'm letting Carson take advantage of me. I've tried to explain to her that I'm just as curious as he is, and that the results won't leave Atlantis, but…." He shrugged again. "Her people have always been the most secretive and, well, proud of the Pretenders. They're also the oldest, so I can see her side. But still…." He pushed his eggs around his plate a moment. "We've found out some really cool stuff."

Rodney had actually forgotten about his own breakfast for the moment, and his inner scientist was practically drooling on the table. "Like, um, what?" His voice came out like he was twelve again, and John narrowed his eyes briefly. For a second he thought John might be offended, but then he did that weird chuffing noise and Rodney just _knew_ he was amused before the man even smiled.

John put his elbows on the table and leaned forward a bit. "Well, for starters, I can dead lift a thousand pounds without breaking a sweat." He kept his voice fairly quiet and bobbed his eyebrows.

Lorne's hands settled by his plate. "Whoa."

Ronon perked up. Then he smirked, pushed his tray to the side, and leaned forward, right elbow on the table.

"No!" The word came out a little loud, and John cleared his throat. "I am not arm wrestling you," he hissed through his teeth.

"Afraid I'll beat you?" Ronon's smirk was not leaving.

John leaned forward even more until his stomach was up against the table's edge. "No, I'm afraid _I'll_ beat you, here, in public, and you'll use me as your own personal punching bag in class tomorrow."

Rodney knew John was still taking Aikido and kendo lessons, too, from the big guy, and he could only imagine how many times he would be kissing the mat or getting smacked around like a furry piñata. Ronon suddenly waggled his fingers and made a kissy face, and Rodney smirked. "I think Shrek there just called you a pussy." The glare from John made him smirk even wider.

"Yup, I think you're right, doc," Lorne drawled.

John glared at the Major, too. "Crap," he muttered and pushed his tray to the side. He plopped his own arm on the table. "You've been warned."

"Ain't gonna happen," Ronon said as he grasped John's hand.

Rodney suddenly felt the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he realized he was actually nervous. Then his nose tickled and he sneezed, and the feeling seemed to back off. He rubbed his nose just as Lorne put his own hand on top of John and Ronon's. Then his nose tickled again and for a moment he caught something … sharp. It wasn't bad, just intense, and raised all the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck.

"Keep it clean," Lorne said and lifted his hand.

The sharp smell grew stronger and made Rodney's heart race. _Okay, that is just really freaking weird and disturbing on so many levels,_ he thought. He should not be getting this, well, _excited_ over two macho Neanderthals arm wrestling. Well, actually, just glaring at each other over white-knuckled fists. Ronon's smirk had disappeared in a matter of seconds, and he was obviously putting everything he had into his effort. Then he looked at John, and even though he had his lips drawn in and looked just as intent as Ronon, Rodney just somehow _knew_ he wasn't putting as much effort into it as the big guy.

A couple Marines sitting over at the next table noticed what was going on, and in a few seconds it was obvious they were betting on who was going to trounce who.

Ronon's eyes started to flick between John's eyes and their locked hands. "Are you … humoring me, Fezzik?"

John shrugged and grated out, "Thought I would make you feel like you were doing a good job."

"You both start rhyming and I'm going to stick you on graveyard until the end of the decade," Lorne said.

"And you have both seen that movie way too many times to be considered healthy," Rodney added.

"It's a great movie," John said through his teeth and pinned Ronon's hand to the table rather effortlessly. He immediately let go at Ronon's snarl. "Yeah, my ass is grass tomorrow."

"You have no idea," Ronon growled out as he rubbed his shoulder.

John pulled his tray back in front of him and just concentrated on his food.

Rodney's pulse began to slow, and he noticed that the sharp tang in the air was dissipating. But he noticed something else as well – even though Sheppard looked, well, penitent, he was actually really happy. No doubt about it. _Oh, this is really weird._ He picked up his coffee. "So, what else did you learn besides having Spidey strength to go with your wall-running abilities?"

John smirked around his piece of toast. "Well, I can see a quite a bit further into the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums than normal people. Hell, I can see better in the dark than Carson and Jen could with those silly military night vision goggles." He popped half the piece of toast in his mouth.

"Those things are a total piece of crap," Lorne muttered.

John washed the toast down with some coffee. "And my metabolism is about twenty-two percent higher than humans, and my muscles are thirty-one percent more efficient at processing lactic acid." He chuckled. "Hell, I ran on the treadmill for over two hours before they got bored and made me quit. We're repeating some of the tests this afternoon while I'm in my true form. It'll be cool to see if there's much difference." He popped the rest of the toast in his mouth.

"You, uh, think I'll be like that?" _Because that would be just so … awesome._

"I wouldn't be surprised." Then John gave him a faint, somewhat apologetic smile. "Though the, um, cursed usually aren't as strong as the true born."

"Huh." _I can live with that,_ Rodney thought as he took a sip of coffee. "So, ah, did you do anything with, say, sense of smell?"

John shrugged. "Yeah, they did a few things, and rattled off a bunch of crap about so much particle concentration per milliliter…." He lifted a hand and did the little _talk-talk-talk_ sign. "When I asked for a translation of the geek speak they basically said I wasn't as sensitive as a bloodhound, but I could give a drug dog a run for his money."

Lorne perked up. "Hey, can I borrow you sometime to check …."

"No, I am not going to be your McGruff." John deliberately ignored the man's smirk and turned to face Rodney. "Why, have _you_ noticed anything yet?"

Rodney actually found himself squirming faintly under the man's pale green stare. He never noticed it before, but John's irises seemed a little larger than a normal person's. "Other than the sleep or drop thing? No." His reply came out a little rushed, and he saw John's nostrils flare a couple times, then his eyes narrowed faintly. "Really. Unless a dream about diving into the world's largest bowl of Honeycomb counts." He glanced at his watch. "Oh, hey, look at the time. I have to meet Zelenka at the desalination units for a diagnostic – their efficiency has dropped eight percent and Grodin can't find a reason in control." He quickly swept up his tray, and as he crossed the cafeteria he could swear he could feel Sheppard's eyes following him until he left the room entirely.

Rodney knew he couldn't lie worth crap most of the time, but when he figured out John knew he was lying just by _smell_, that really freaked him out. Oh, the next few days were going to be really weird. He had absolutely no doubt about that.

-oOo-

John spent the rest of the morning being a glorified taxi driver for some biologists, but he didn't mind. He was _flying_. That was all that counted. He'd forgotten how much he missed being behind the controls of a helicopter. It was so much different than being in a fixed wing aircraft, and it was the only time he felt like he was using his piloting skills to their max. It didn't take him long to get back up to speed, and the Sikorsky that was his responsibility was the sweetest thing ever. Lorne and a few of the other pilots had referred to the chopper as their puddle jumper, and when they got the second one Lorne had claimed the newer one for himself. John wound up with 'Jumper One, and that suited him just fine.

His family never did understand his love – no, his _desire_ – to fly. Actually, no, he took that back – his mother understood. She fully understood what it felt to be trapped and wanting to be _free_. He'd always envied birds and their ability to leave the Earth and soar in the sky for that exact same reason. Many a time as a child he wished he had feathers and wings instead of claws and fur, especially after his mother's death, and later when the family politics threatened to turn his soul to ash. So he did the next best thing to growing his own wings.

He joined the Air Force the day he graduated from college.

They loved him. Not only did he have an amazing natural aptitude at piloting, he also showed promise in combat as well. It wasn't long before he was flying missions into places he had no right being in, doing things that eventually wore just as heavily on his soul as his family did. When he re-upped, he requested to be transferred. At first he was behind the controls of Apaches and Blackhawks, but then he started volunteering for medivac duty. That seemed to help fill the black void that had settled in his heart. And it also gave him a bit of smug joy knowing how much it would irritate his family knowing that he was helping save _human_ lives.

And he wasn't the only Pretender in the armed forces. A few of the guys he knew in Black Ops were changelings, and half the Rangers he ever met seemed to be either part ogre or troll. The ones with the troll blood were usually the blood thirstiest bastards he ever met, and he tried to stay out of their way as best he could. He often had the feeling he was the only Pretender in the military who _wasn't_ there for the opportunity to kill humans, and because of that he'd gotten his ass pounded a few times. He did win enough fights, however, that word got around and the other Pretenders eventually left him alone.

Then came the incident in Afghanistan.

Yes, he disobeyed a direct order. Yes, he was shot down. But he did bring one of the pilots back alive – the other was dead before he got there – but it made no difference. He knew his fate was sealed when he entered the court martial hearing and saw a vargyr on the board. John could feel and smell the contempt rolling off the general as he sat down. He kept his own emotions under control, but he was facing a high ranking alpha from Clan Lupis and there was no love lost between them and Clan Onca. He was pretty much screwed before anyone even spoke.

So he was less than honorably discharged instead of being sent to McMurdo, like he expected. He refused to go back to home so he spent a few years just wandering before he settled in Montana. He thought he'd be happy being away from people, away from other vargyr and any clan politics, but his soul started to slowly die again and he had absolutely no idea it was happening.

Until he was brought to Atlantis and found a reason to start fighting again.

That first week was the stuff of nightmares, and he still woke up in his true form in the middle of the night, his heart racing, claws and teeth bared, and a roar barely held in check. Every morning he was reminded of Kolya and Chaya when he saw the thick white scar that ran from his sternum to damn near his dick, and the other small red marks in clusters of two that were just about completely faded from view nearly six months later.

He had no idea why he accepted that job offer from Dr. Weir. By all rights he should have left this place as fast as he could and never looked back. But there were people here that weren't monsters. Actually, the only two monsters were gone, and the community here was … amazing. The researchers loved their jobs, and now that the fear that had permeated the place was gone, the energy that suffused the entire island was incredible. The humans had no idea what they were creating outside of their labs, but the few Pretenders at Atlantis could feel it, and it charged the soul like some kind of ethereal crack.

For the first time in his life, John felt like he was in a true home.

The people here also accepted him for what he was. Granted, he'd come across a few who seemed a little frightened of him, but he had always been a bit of a flirt and a charmer, and they had eventually grown comfortable around him. After what was done to him that first week, he learned there were some incredible people here, and most of them were his friends now. It was nice having people he could just be himself around, and they accepted it without blinking.

But there was one right now that he really needed to make amends with.

John ran his hand down the lighted door controls. He heard the soft chime on the other side and waited patiently, his hands behind his back. A second later he felt a wave of irritation come from the other side of the door and resisted the urge to call out with his inner voice. Then the door slid open and Teyla frowned faintly and crossed her arms. John was ready for her. He had his head cocked slightly, his eyebrows raised in the middle, and his lips quirked in a hint of a pout in his best whipped kitten expression. It worked wonders on the nurses in the infirmary last fall, and apparently it affected the Sidhe as well. He saw the corner of Teyla's own mouth twitch, so he pulled out the heavy artillery while he had a slight advantage. He'd picked up a stick off the helipad and swiped a napkin from the mess before coming here, and he waved his impromptu white flag. "Truce?"

Teyla raised an eyebrow, but it was clear she was fighting a smile.

"If not for me, at least for McKay's sake?" John waggled the flag again and really worked the pout. "Please? I will get on my knees if I have to. Or on my back and show my belly…."

That did it. Teyla sighed and rolled her eyes. Then she just shook her head and chuckled softly. "John Sheppard, you are pathetic."

He hung his head and sighed heavily. "I know." Then he peeked up through his hair and she laughed. "Truce?"

"All right. Truce." She waved John into her quarters and he stepped inside, a goofy grin lighting his face. But the second the door closed her serious frown returned. "Why for McKay's sake?"

John sobered. "The changes are starting, and you and I have been around Rodney long enough now to know he tends to, well…."

"Panic." Teyla paced over to the sofa in her small living room and settled gracefully onto the arm. "I have been on graveyard duty, so I honestly have not been around him the past few days. What have you noticed?"

"His scent has started to change, and if I didn't know better, I think at breakfast this morning he was picking up on scent cues." John ran a hand through his hair then scratched at the back of his head. "He definitely reacted to the adrenaline when Ronon and I, um…."

"Arm wrestled." Teyla smirked. "I heard all about it."

John grimaced. "He started it." At Teyla's soft _mm-hmm_ he felt his ears get warm. When he started to speak, his voice came out a little high at first. "Anyway, things are going to start getting really freaky for him over the next few days. He's going to need a little extra … attention."

"But not _overt_ attention."

"Exactly."

Teyla smiled. "I can do that. I know he never turns down a snack. I may have to stop by his lab before my shift with … cookies."

John snorted, but a moment later he was serious again and picking at the bark on the stick he still held. It took a moment for the words to come out, and when they did he managed to keep his tone casual. "I'm, uh, going through some more tests this afternoon." He felt Teyla's mood flip, then a moment later she closed off everything to him. He immediately raised the flag and waggled it. "I want you to be there, Teyla. They aren't doing anything invasive, or humiliating. Come see for yourself, and if you think they are doing anything degrading or, or _hinky_, just speak up." She just stared at him, her expression neutral. "Please? You can heckle me while I'm on the treadmill. Jenn does." He grimaced. "A lot."

Teyla was silent for so long John was sure he'd have to resort to the eyebrows again. Then she nodded. "All right. What time."

John sighed in relief. "In the physical therapy lab, just off the infirmary. Two o'clock."

"I will be there."

John's answering smile brought a hint of one to her face. "Thanks. It means a lot."

Then one of Teyla's eyebrows rose. "Should I bring a camera?"

"Um … no. Jenn's been, ah, well … it's all included in the heckling."

-oOo-

It took Rodney and Zelenka over almost five hours to find the faulty water flow sensor that diagnostics couldn't pick up, and only three minutes to replace the damn thing. After another hour and a half to reassemble the pump and a sinus headache from hell, Rodney was more than just growly – he was ready to take Ronon on in hand to hand. Zelenka kept his head down and his mouth shut, and at one point even produced a Powerbar before Rodney even started complaining about low blood sugar. Rodney took it and didn't even question how Zelenka even knew he was starting to crash. It was just one of those things that happened so often, it just … was.

By the time they finished up on SL3, they had just enough time to swing by the cafeteria, grab a couple sandwiches, then head down to the sterile lab to finish assembling a special order probe the folks over at Cheyenne Mountain expected by the end of the week. They ate on the run, and by the time they were in the prep room they were brushing the last of the crumbs from their hands and shirt fronts.

Rodney squinted through the window into the lab and saw the other two engineers on the project – Esposito and Scheuler – were already suited up and working. "So, you know everything that's going on around here," Rodney said as he grabbed a shrink-wrapped set of overalls and ripped open the plastic. Just that sound alone made sharp spikey superballs bounce around in his frontal lobe. "Are Esposito and Sheppard really an item?" It seemed half the men on Atlantis were chasing her to no avail, and here he nabbed her right after New Years. It was so not fair.

"Espinoza," Zelenka corrected as he sat down to pull his own suit on. The legs of the overalls had their own built in booties that made them look like adult sized sleepers. "And as far as I've heard, it's strictly platonic." The disgusted sigh and head shake he gave spoke volumes.

Rodney grimaced as well, but most of it was from pain. "You, ah, don't suppose Colonel Cuckoo and Dr. Dominatrix, um, messed things up, do you?"

"That is something you would have to ask him. I, myself – not touching with a ten foot pole." Zelenka stood and slid his arms into the sleeves of his suit. He watched Rodney as he zipped it up. "You feeling all right, Rodney? You look more pale than normal. As matter of fact – you are blending in with your suit."

Rodney's hand fluttered up by his temple. "Have a headache. Eating seems to have helped it a little." He stood as well, and he grimaced again at the sound of the zipper.

Zelenka watched him closely, nonetheless.

Next came the hoods. It took Zelenka a moment to get the last stray wisps of his hair contained, then another moment to get his glasses readjusted. After the hoods came latex gloves, goggles, and a five minute wait in the airlock while powerful fans and vacuums got rid of any dust that could pose a problem with the delicate innards of the probe.

Espinoza looked up as they entered and smiled, her dimples and big, liquid brown eyes making Rodney actually twitch out a half-assed smile of his own in reply. Scheuler looked more like a wrestling coach than a scientist, and the man just grunted a greeting, his hands still buried in the guts of the probe.

Rodney rubbed his hands together and the latex made a faint squeaking sound. "Okay, people, where are we?"

"We're just about done with the bracketing for the power core," Espinoza replied.

Her lightly accented voice was pure honey and Rodney thought, _lucky bastard. I hate him_. "And the core?"

She pointed behind him to a table. "Ready to be initialized."

"Good. I'll do that. Radek, you're responsible for the systems boards. I want everything reading clean transfer rates when it comes time to start plugging everything in."

Zelenka nodded then headed to the other side of the lab where dozens of components were laid out on a work table. He pulled a cart of diagnostic equipment over and positioned himself so he could see everyone else in the room, especially Rodney, then went to work.

Rodney had his back to everyone as he picked up the power core – another lovely gift from the folks over at the SGC. It was a mini naquadah generator and had enough power to run the small probe for a century or more. It's big brother and latest model supplied all the power to Atlantis, and he'd worked with other naquadah generators when he was at Area 51. Not as cool as the ZPM, but pretty damn close.

He had the unit activated and was in the process of running a diagnostic when his nose tickled and his headache gave a sharp twinge right above his left eye. Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the base of his hand against his cloth covered temple. For a second he thought he was going to sneeze, and oh hell, that would be bad in this lab. The headache backed off a fraction, and as he tried to rub his nose, lightly, with his shoulder, he realized he was smelling something … sweet. It had a bit of a chemical tang as well, but was most definitely sickeningly sweet. He sniffed the air a few times, then frowned murderously. "All right," he growled as he dropped his arm and whirled around. "Who brought food in here?" He was met by three blank stares. "Huh? I know someone has something. I can smell it." And to prove he _could_ smell it, he started to walk around the lab, his nose leading the way.

Espinoza and Scheuler exchanged slightly wide-eyed looks, and Zelenka stood there with his mouth open.

"This is strictly a no food, no drink lab." Rodney was honing in on the two engineers. "Do you think we wear these suits because they're a fashion statement, people? Because they're stylin' and hip?" His voice was starting to rise and his face was getting red. "No. We wear them because one microscopic spec could ruin a half a year's worth of work. And I'm sure you wouldn't want to explain to the Board why you destroyed a billion dollar project _because of a snack_!"

"Rodney?" Zelenka said, his voice hesitant. "Nobody brought food in here."

"Hah!" Rodney was by Espinoza, and at his exclamation she flinched away from him. Then because he was there, he sniffed her. For a second he froze, because what he got off of her suddenly brought some very inappropriate thoughts to his head. Then he caught that sweet smell again, and his brain and stomach recognized it. "A Twinkie? Someone brought a Twinkie into the sterile lab?" His head whipped towards Scheuler and he pointed at the now freaked out man. "It's you! You're the culprit!"

The engineer patted his overalls roughly where his jacket pocket would be, and from underneath the two layers of cloth came the barely discernable crinkling of plastic wrapper in the now dead silent lab.

"Out! I want you out of my lab, now! You know the protocols. No food … in … here." Rodney's words trailed off as he finally noticed the horrified looks everyone was giving him. Even Zelenka. Rodney's own eyes got huge as he realized how totally batshit crazy he sounded a moment ago. "Oh God," he choked out as he raised a hand to his mouth. "Um…."

He ran.

He didn't bother taking off the white overalls – he just pulled off the goggles somewhere in the hall and threw them aside, then pushed the hood back. He got in the elevator and hit the button for the atrium level, and kept hitting it a dozen more times even after the doors shut. He was running on pure panic induced autopilot, and he didn't fully realize where he was until he found himself in the infirmary shouting for Carson. One of the nurses approached him and he yelled at her, "Where's Carson?"

"He's in the physical therapy…." She didn't get to finish the sentence before Rodney pushed he aside and stomped towards the door in the west wall. "You can't go in there – he's conducting tests."

"I don't care!" Rodney was starting to hyperventilate and the bright room seemed even more so. He ran his hand down the control panel and charged into the room before the door even had a chance to open fully. His shoulders scraped on the metal edges and he stumbled a few steps before coming to a sudden, gasping, wide-eyed halt.

The first thing he saw was Sheppard. He was in his true form and wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue running shorts. He was on a treadmill, his upper body leaning forward to the point it was nearly parallel with the ground, and running in an easy, loping, hip swiveling, completely _inhuman_ gait. Dozens of wires were attached to his legs, his chest, and those in turn ran into a unit strapped on like a fanny pack. He also had some kind of bizarre breathing apparatus strapped to his head. The mouthpiece didn't quite fit right in his muzzle, and he had a towel in one hand to swipe the drool out of the fur on his chin.

Keller and Carson were monitoring several computers, and Teyla was standing by the treadmill. They all turned when Rodney froze, and John even whipped his head that way.

It wasn't the sight of Sheppard that made Rodney stop – it was the _smell_ in the room. It was a heady, musky, nearly _physical_ thing that had his body and brain at war trying to decide if it wanted to run away, screaming, or just drop to the floor and whimper. So at the moment it was at a compromise and just frozen in place.

"Dr. McKay?" Teyla said, her voice soft and concerned. "What is wrong?"

"Rodney?" Carson asked a second later.

"I. Um. Uh." Rodney swallowed hard. His face was slick with sweat, and he was starting to shake. Then his legs turned to jelly and he went down. Carson and Teyla were by his side in a second, and he just looked back and forth between them, his mouth working like a trout out of water. "I, I, I, I, I can't do this," he finally gasped out. "I can't. I thought I could, but, but, but…. I don't think I can."

John gracefully hopped off the treadmill and pulled the awkward respiration monitor off his head. Keller started to protest, but he just shoved the thing in her arms and headed for Rodney, his claws clicking on the tile floor. She looked at the contraption in her arms, then sat it down and followed.

"Calm down, Rodney," Carson said softly. "You're starting to hyperventilate."

Rodney's head bobbed spastically, his face alarmingly red, drops of sweat running freely down his cheeks only to gather at his chin and fall. "You think I'm not aware of that?" His voice was high, strangled. "Oh, God, I'm going to die. I just know it. I. Can't. Do. This!" That musky scent flowed over him and he flinched away violently as the flight response overpowered his current panic. Teyla caught his shoulder with a surprisingly strong grip.

"Rodney, listen to me," Teyla said softly. "You are going to be fine." Her hand left his shoulder and settled on the back of his neck. She glanced at John and barely shook her head once. He halted about ten feet away, then backed up a few more steps. Keller glanced between them curiously as she stopped by Carson.

Rodney could feel Teyla's cool hand on his skin, and his attention focused on that. The coolness seemed to spread through his neck, down into his chest, and he took in a deep hiccupping breath.

Carson glanced at Keller. "Hand me that water." She retrieved one of the unopened bottles, uncapped it, and handed it to Rodney. "Sip."

Rodney did as instructed, but his hand was shaking so bad he slopped more water down his chin than went into his mouth. Teyla was rubbing light circles on the back of his neck, and that seemed to be helping more than anything.

John stood still, his breath coming in deep, open mouthed pants as he tried to cool down. He didn't need his empathy to know part of the fear he felt coming off of the scientist was a reaction to his own scent. Rodney's limbic system was starting to gear up, to get him in touch with the animal nature that was starting to build in his body and ready him for the Change. He was simply responding to the threat he felt in John's own animal nature. John closed his eyes and shifted, and he hoped the sudden sheen of sweat that broke out all over his overheated skin didn't send off another wave of pheromones and trigger another flight episode. When he opened his eyes Teyla was looking at him and nodding faintly.

Rodney did flinch again, but it was minor. The coolness that spread from Teyla's touch was even calming his headache and he started to feel more in control than a few minutes ago. He gulped some more water down then looked at Teyla. "Thanks," he whispered then lowered his eyes. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_, he repeated internally. _Way to freak out, McKay_. But his pulse was still pounding, his hand still trembling.

"What happened, Rodney?" John asked softly.

Rodney's head snapped up, but the genuinely concerned expression on Sheppard's face made the sudden tenseness ease the tightness in his throat. As he took another drink he decided he was never going to call the man scrawny ever again. He was slim, yes, but he was all long, defined, whipcord lean muscle. Definitely a cat build. John crouched down and balanced on his toes to be more on an eye level, and the movement was full of controlled feline grace, too.

"Yes, Rodney – what happened?" Carson repeated just as softly.

Rodney lowered his head and stared at his hands wrapped around the water bottle. When he spoke, his words were barely above a whisper. "I. Um. I … freaked out over a … Twinkie."

A silence fell over the room that was only interrupted by the hum of the still running treadmill. "A … Twinkie?" John finally said.

"Yes. A God damned Twinkie." Some of the fire came back in Rodney's voice and he glared at John, the challenge to make a joke out of it obvious. When he didn't rise to the bait, Rodney lowered his eyes again. "In the sterile lab on SL2." Then he slowly told them what happened. Teyla's hand went back to his back and rested there, the touch more comforting than he could imagine. When he finished he drew in his lips and glanced worriedly around him and wondered if they were all questioning his sanity as much as he was right now.

"And how are you feeling now?" Teyla asked him.

"Much better."

"And your, ah…." Carson gestured at his own nose. "Are you picking up anything now?" His voice actually contained a note of wonder in it.

Rodney pointed at John. "Just him. Christ, Sheppard, you really need a shower."

John let out a short amused chuff, then sniffed himself. "Yeah, I do, don't I?" He glanced at Keller. "Unless you need me to continue?" He jerked his chin towards the treadmill.

"Naw. I think we're done. Besides, half your wires fell off when you Changed, and I don't feel like gluing the damn things back into your fur."

"Good." John stood up and started pulling the rest off. He grimaced as some of the ones on his chest took some hairs with them. Keller started with the few that remained on his legs, and he actually flinched a few times as she ripped out a few hairs as well. He glared at her, and she just showed him her dimples.

Rodney actually _felt_ the mood in the room relax. It was odd, and slightly euphoric. When Carson and Teyla offered hands to help him to his feet, he swayed a little and Carson caught his arm.

Carson lifted his eyebrows and lowered his chin. "Are yae sure you're alright now?"

"No, not by a long shot. I'm still incredibly freaked over this whole thing, and I'm sure by now my reputation as a total fucking nutcase is spreading throughout all of Atlantis like wildfire even as I speak, not to mention Lorne is probably burning copies from the video feed, but, but …."

"We are here for you," Teyla said and gave him a warm smile.

"Anytime, pal," John added.

Rodney watched Carson and Keller nod in agreement and swallowed before he offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile and not have it mistaken as a gas attack. "Then, I guess, I just might get through this after all. Maybe." But internally he thought, _I'm so screwed_.

_End Note: .......................................................... Huh? It's over? Sorry - even though I wrote the dang thing, that image of Sheppard wearing nothing but a pair of blue satiny running shorts just, just, ..................................................guh. *thud*_


	7. VII: Countdown to C Day

_Author's Note: One of the funnest things about writing mainly from Rodney's POV? The freak outs...._

**VII: Countdown to C-Day**

After the Terrible Toxic Twinkie Incident (Keller was _so_ going to get it for coining that), things only went from bad to worse for Rodney. Carson loaded him up on antihistamines and Tylenol and that seemed to help with the sinus headache. Breathing through his mouth helped even more when he remembered to. He retreated to his lab for the rest of the day, and Zelenka stopped by to let him know that he recruited Grodin to help with the probe and that everything was on schedule and not to worry because he had it all under control and could he get him anything from the PX or the cafeteria before he headed back to his own lab?

That Zelenka was babbling, in English, helped ease Rodney's mind. If he had been freaked, he wouldn't have understood a single word, and that really hadn't happened since Dr. Dominatrix was around.

Nobody said anything at dinner that night. His dining companions weren't exactly walking on eggshells, but they were fairly subdued compared to normal. But then, that may have been the result of Keller not being there and egging people on with her obnoxious two cents worth. He noticed John sat as far away from him as he could, and for that he thankful. He caught just a hint of the man's musky scent as he walked by and that little bit alone came close to throwing him into a panic attack that would have him running from the cafeteria. He kept telling himself he was a rational, exceptionally – no, _phenomenally_ – intelligent human being, not some territorial, hyper-reactive, butt-sniffing….

Okay, he was so _not_ going there. Huh-uh. No way. The Twinkie thing was bad enough, thank you very much, but for a second there he could hear the Elephant Man's garbled _I am not an animal_ comment echo in his head and threaten to wipe out what little control he achieved. He looked up from his meal and saw both Sheppard and Teyla studying him with faint baffled expressions before they averted their scrutiny to their own dinners. He kept his focus on his own meal afterwards as well.

When he woke up the next morning the headache had subsided to a faint thud that only woke up when he bent over to tie his shoes. The walk to the cafeteria didn't induce any scent induced flight responses, but the second he stepped inside….

"Oh, wow," Rodney whispered, his eyes bright and a very crooked grin lighting his face as his hands twitched by his sides. He didn't realize he was standing in the door, mesmerized by what he was certain heaven smelled like, until someone cleared their throat behind him. He gave the Marine an impatient grimace, even though _he_ was the one blocking the way, and headed for the line. He couldn't decide what he wanted – it all smelled _so damn good_ – so he pretty much took one of everything until he ran out of room on his tray. When he joined the usual crew at the back table – this time with the addition of Elizabeth – he got a few odd looks as he sat down next to Carson.

And Carson was the first to speak. "Did your appetite come back?"

"No. No. I, um … well, they always say variety is the stuff of life."

"That looks more like the stuff of indigestion to me," Elizabeth said with a hint of a smile. She was finally starting to look like her old self again – the haunted shadow was no longer present in her eyes, and she actually laughed again. She still wore nothing but long sleeves, however, since the scars from Colonel Cuckoo's forced morphine addiction were a permanent reminder of the madness she'd been powerless to stop last year. "But you may want to avoid the eggs Benedict – hollandaise has lemon in it."

"Crap – totally forgot about that." Good thing it was in its own little serving dish. He picked it up. "Um, anybody?"

Ronon just reached over and took it away. "Thanks."

Rodney nodded at him and dug in. Not only did everything smell good, it tasted even better. As he chewed away in total bliss, he saw Teyla looking at him and smiling. He gave her a happy, head waggling, crooked smile right back.

"How's the headache this morning?" Carson asked.

"Better." Rodney's hand came up briefly and flitted by his temple. "It's turned into one of those weird pressure ones that only twinge when I bend over, or ride in the elevator."

"And your…." John tapped his nose and lifted his eyebrows.

Rodney shrugged. "Still dialed up to eleven." He self-consciously rubbed at it. "But, um, easier to deal with today." And it really was, he decided as he stuffed a bite of honey cured ham into his mouth. He fought the urge to groan as he chewed – amazing how the senses of taste and smell were so, so codependent on each other.

"Glad to hear it," John said rather happily and picked up his orange juice.

Lorne was just lowering his coffee cup when he said rather deadpan, "Thank God it wasn't a Ho-Ho."

John had scary fast reflexes thanks to being a vargyr, but even then he barely got his hand up to his face before the orange spray came out of his own incredibly sensitive nose. He started coughing as the citrus burn filled his sinuses and grabbed his napkin. "Oh, fu … that shit burns!" He turned away from the table, tears already streaming down his cheeks.

Even though he was on the other end of the table, Rodney still flinched away from the potentially deadly spray. Then he leaned forward so he could see Lorne. "Oh, har har, Major. Never made it past the sixth grade, did you?"

Ronon and Keller were trying to contain their snickering, and Carson was watching John with mild alarm. The man sounded like he'd been hit in the face with pepper spray by the way he was coughing. And faintly growling.

Lorne's face was a deadpan mask slowly sliding into a guilty grimace because both Elizabeth and Teyla had him pinned in place with twin disapproving frowns. Elizabeth arched one fine eyebrow. "There will be no more references to Hostess snack cakes of any kind. Do I make myself clear?" She glanced around the table, and Ronon and Keller sobered up. John glanced her way and gave her a nod and thumbs-up as he wiped tears from his face.

"Yes, ma'am," Lorne said and lowered his eyes.

Rodney beamed. "Thank you, doctor."

Elizabeth nodded at him and smiled rather … smugly. Teyla even seemed pretty pleased.

"Well, good to know there are some polite, _civilized_ people around here who don't mock a person when they're down." Rodney waited for anyone to add something, but the only sound was a sneeze and quiet _ow_ from John. A little smug smirk lit his own face as he popped some bacon into his mouth. It quickly disappeared as he realized just how damn _good_ bacon tasted now. Oh, man, he was going to look like Marlon Brando before all of this was over….

-oOo-

By mid morning Rodney was rethinking how well he was doing with the smells. He did fine in his own lab – everything there was all ready familiar and comforting. Some people had a favorite t-shirt or pair of sweats or a big comfy bathrobe that gave them a deep sense of security in times of stress. He had a soldering gun and four laptops running simulations on four different projects at once. He took solace in work, and he knew people called him obsessive for that, but that was just how his mind worked. It was busy, all the time, twenty-four seven. It never shut off. And the busier he could keep it, the less freaked out he could be over other things.

Like how he passed Dr. Espinoza in the hall while on his way to Zelenka's lab to sign off on the now working shield generator, and over her own minty-but-not-minty-mouthwash scent that turned him on more than it should he caught just a tiny bit of Sheppard's, and it made him feel a little pissed off and, well, _possessive_. He even stopped and turned around, his nose lifted in the air briefly as he sniffed at her trailing wake. Then he started and glanced around before anyone spotted him, including her. _Okay, that was just a little too freaky_, he thought as he hurried on his way, head down and cheeks crimson. Not from the turned on part because she was pretty damn hot if he did say so himself, but that little jealousy thing? Oh no no no no no. He wasn't that way. His reoccurring dream about a threesome with Deana Troi – first season ST:TNG – and Number Six were proof enough.

He was still running through a list of all the hot women he would really like as a fantasy lab assistants when he just barged into Zelenka's lab. And for the second time in five minutes stopped dead in his tracks. He immediately pinched his nose off and made a face like a pug in the middle of dry heaves _and_ an IBS attack. "Oh good God! What are you _eating_?" As he breathed in through his mouth he swore he could taste the stench in the air, and his free hand flew up to cover it. Then realized that he really did need to breathe, uncovered his mouth, and brought his t-shirt up over his lower face instead.

Zelenka sat at his work counter, a fork paused halfway between his gaping mouth and a plastic container. "Um, Dr. Nguyen brought me some of her homemade kimchi, extra spicy." When Rodney made a gagging noise, he quickly dropped the fork into the container and snapped the lid shut. "If you are going to vomit, garbage can is over there."

Rodney gagged a few times, but he held it together. "Papers … where?" He mimed signing something as he pressed his t-shirt tighter against his face. Zelenka picked up a clipboard and literally scurried around the counter to Rodney. There was already a pen clipped to the board, and Rodney grabbed that and then, while leaning as far away from the Czech as possible, quickly scribbled his name somewhere near the bottom of the form, and charged out of the lab. He leaned over one of the many potted plants, his left hand braced on the wall for support, and gagged. Nothing came up, but it took him a moment to get his breathing under control.

"Dr. McKay – do you need assistance?"

Rodney looked at the young Marine watching him, his hand hovering by his ear piece. "No, no – I'm fine. Breakfast … isn't agreeing."

"Can I take you to the infirmary?"

The Marine stepped a little closer, and whatever aftershave he was wearing made Rodney flinch away from him. "No, I know the way," he replied rather sharply. He straightened up and held a hand to his stomach. "It's passing. I can make it on my own." He pointed back the way he came and grimaced. "Ah, going now."

"Okay, sir." The Marine didn't sound too convinced.

Rodney headed back to his lab, promptly locked the door, ran to the small bathroom, and puked his guts out. "Oh, man," he groaned as another wave of nausea washed over him. "I thought this smelled bad _before_…."

-oOo-

After another bad incident involving a mixed group of scientists and Marines coming back from the gym Rodney sequestered himself in his lab. He ventured out at odd hours when he knew the halls would be fairly empty to make runs to the cafeteria or the PX to stock up on snacks. He'd even take the stairs to his quarters just to avoid any random lingering odors in the elevators simply because he knew a few scientists who thought squeezing one out as they left was the best joke ever. Rodney was a virtual ghost in Atlantis for four days, his presence only felt by the dozens of e-mails he sent checking up on projects, sending long memos to Elizabeth and Zelenka, and sending suggestions to Grodin in control on how to improve the efficiency of the air circulation and filtering system.

His only visitors were forced to stand by the door in his lab, and if could have arranged it, they would have been in the white sterile suits. Elizabeth shot down his request for hazmat suits. He knew she wouldn't understand. The only visitor he even let all the way into the room was Teyla, mainly because she smelled really good and always brought cookies, sometimes still warm from the oven.

On the third day Rodney found his hearing was starting to get sensitive, and the squeak he never knew his chair even had started to drive him crazy. He spent several hours that day with a can of WD40 squirting every joint and wheel and swivel he could find that could produce noise. Then he promptly had to leave for a few more hours until the smell from _that_ dissipated.

Around dinner time on the fourth night Rodney was glued to his computer when he heard the door open. "Hey, Teyla. You're early," he said and hoped she had peanut butter cookies this time because, damn, that sounded really good right now. He swiveled around on his silent chair and his grin froze.

John was halfway across the lab with a covered tray and a brown paper bag before he froze, too. He blinked, then his face screwed up, and he let out a loud, somewhat embarrassing guffaw. He paused for a second, took another look at Rodney, and just completely lost it.

Rodney squirmed uncomfortably in his chair and as casually and, with as much dignity as he could, pulled the two rolled up tissues out of his nostrils. "Hey, they help," he said somewhat defensively.

"Oh, God, McKay – don't ever change," John choked out as he sat the bag down and swiped a hand across his eyes. "Man, for a second there, you looked like some kind of, of mutant werewalrus."

Rodney just grimaced and sighed heavily.

John was still giggling when he retrieved the bag and came over to Rodney. He held out the tray. "Thought you might like a hot meal for a change…." He had to let go pretty quickly as Rodney snatched the tray away.

Rodney pulled the lid off and just breathed in deeply. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, sautéed onions, Guinness gravy, and two different kinds of chocolate cake for dessert. "Oh, man." He started digging in immediately.

John was grinning as he sat the bag down on the counter and leaned against it. "I think Teyla is still swinging by with cookies later." He crossed his arms.

"What's in there?" Rodney pointed at the bag with his fork, but from the smell he already had an inkling.

"I asked Becca to make up some sandwiches for you, stock up your minifridge with something besides junk. She even threw in some peanut butter and dill pickle ones."

"Um, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Rodney ate in peace for a few minutes, but after awhile he kept glancing at Sheppard. "Um, do you want something?"

John smiled. "No, no. Just waiting for you to finish. I brought you an ancient vargyr secret for dealing with bad smells."

"You … you did?" Rodney's eyes lit up and he grinned faintly.

"Yeah, but I'll wait 'til after you're done. Don't want to spoil your dinner." When Rodney started to look and smell a bit panicked, he held up his hands. "Don't worry, it's nothing disgusting." Then he smirked knowingly. "I mean, I don't have to tell you how … different things taste now, do I?"

Rodney shook his head and swallowed. "It's amazing. I swear I can taste individual ingredients. Every bite is a, a, an adventure now."

John chuckled and pushed away from the counter. A second later he had his nose in the bag. "Say, can I try one of these?" he asked as he pulled out a sandwich.

"Knock yourself out."

John tore the plastic wrap away and the smell of dill and honey-nut peanut butter and fresh bread joined the odor of Rodney's dinner. He sniffed the sandwich, took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully.

"Well?"

"Still processing." John took another bite. "Huh. Not bad. Different. I need some milk, though."

"All I have is water – in the fridge."

John wandered over and grabbed a bottle. As he walked past, Rodney noticed that he smelled faintly of soap and shampoo, and the musk was very subdued.

Rodney finished his last bite of cake just as John finished his sandwich. "Um, thanks. Again." Rodney put the cover back on the tray, then looked at John expectantly. "Well?" John pulled something out of his pocket and sat it on the counter. Rodney stared at it. Then picked it up. "Lip balm? You brought me lip balm?" He glared at John. "Smart ass."

"Hey, that stuff got me through my first semester in the dorms. Put a little under your nose – the menthol and eucalyptus help block odors, and it won't blow your sinuses out the back of your head like vapor rub." Rodney continued to stare at him. "Just try it, okay? Trust me. I know this stuff."

Rodney grimaced and uncapped the tube. He took a sniff and immediately pulled his head back. "Whoa. This really works?" He got a nod. "Okay, Snagglepuss. I'll try it." He swiped it under his nose, his stubble scraping off more than he thought necessary. But after the initial blast that made his eyes water, he noticed his nose was tingling and he couldn't smell the bag of sandwiches until he put in face in the open top. "Hey, cool." He put the tube in his pocket. Then he noticed Sheppard's expression had gone somewhat serious.

"I, uh, spoke with Colonel Caldwell, and Teyla and I are both off duty for the next five days." John put his hands on his hips. "The big night is two nights away, and I just want you to know that if you have any questions, or just need to, I don't know, talk or anything, doesn't matter what time, we'll be available."

Rodney blinked a few times. "Um, ah, okay."

John smiled, then reached out and gave Rodney's shoulder a brief squeeze. "Don't sweat it – you're gonna do great." He picked up the tray to take back to the mess and turned to leave.

"Uh, wait. I, um, I do have a question. Kind of a personal one, and you don't have to answer it if you don't want to. Because I know you don't like to be asked questions about, well, you." He had learned over the past few months that trying to get details about John's past was harder than getting complete sentences out of Ronon.

John had stopped and was half turned towards Rodney. But he smiled faintly, put the tray back down, raised his hands, and said, "Shoot."

"Okay." Rodney took a deep breath. "So … how old were you when you first, um, changed?"

John did a little chin lift and sucked his lips in briefly before he answered. "My mom said I wasn't quite three months old when I shifted. To, ah, human."

Rodney blinked. "Really? You came out … furry?"

"Yeah." John shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "It doesn't happen often, but I came out in my true skin."

"Didn't the doctors, like, freak?"

"Home birth." He chuffed and frowned somewhat ruefully. "The Onca like to say that those born in their true skin are destined for greatness." He shrugged casually. "Guess I didn't follow the pattern."

For the briefest moment Rodney did catch a hint of Sheppard's scent over the balm, and it had a bitter tang. And in just that incredibly short time his brain seemed to kick into overdrive and finally spit out the analysis that the man was actually quite hurt and angry. But his expression and body language sure didn't show it. "Did it hurt?"

John shrugged again. "Too young to remember. But I _was_ born with milk teeth – and let me tell ya, Mom wasn't very happy about _that _from what I gather." He grimaced.

Rodney grimaced in sympathy.

"My brother was close to a year old before he Changed into his true form. I remember he cried for _hours_."

"You have a brother?"

"Yes."

And just from the flat tone that single word was delivered in, Rodney _knew_ he had no chance in hell now of getting anything else out of the man about his family. If he thought his childhood was messed up, he had an inkling that Sheppard's probably made his look like the Beev's.

A slightly uncomfortable silence settled between them for a moment, and both men looked at everything in the room besides each other. Then John sighed and grabbed the tray again. "I, uh, better get this back." He headed for the door, but just before he got there he turned and pointed at Rodney. "Make sure you get a lot of rest between now and C Day, or else Carson will be pissed."

"I'll, uh, try. But no guarantees."

John chuffed and shook his finger at him. Then he was gone.

Rodney didn't turn back to his computer – he just sat there, staring at the floor. Thinking. He was scared absolutely, positively shitless, and he wasn't denying it. Everybody had so much confidence he was going to be just fine, that he was still going to be the same old (but more hirsute) Dr. M. Rodney McKay, Ph. D., Ph. D.. The distraction of his work had helped, but he had to buck up and face the reality of the whole majorly screwed up situation in two days. Why couldn't he go back a year? No, about three years, before Col. Cuckoo's descent into total sadomasochistic lunacy? Back to when Elizabeth didn't flinch at overly loud noises and would argue right back at him, face to face instead of through e-mails? Back when he heard the word 'werewolf' and all he could picture was some Rick Baker creation that gave him nightmares for months because Jeannie double-dog dared him to watch the stupid movie with the lights out? When the name 'Shrek' conjured up a cartoon character that sounded an awful lot like Carson after a half a dozen nips of the good stuff?

He really, really wanted his ignorance back, and a world where science and mathematical formulas could explain everything.

Rodney wrapped his arms around himself and started rocking back and forth in his squeak-free chair. He was shaking, and sweating, and for a moment thought he was going to lose his dinner. When he ran a hand down his face he released a new wave of menthol and eucalyptus, and that helped center his thoughts for a moment. "I can do this. I can do this," he said to the empty lab. _No you can't_, answered his inner voice. If anything, it was a bigger pessimist than he was. "Yes, I can!" _No, you can't._ _You're a pussy_. "Butt out! And for your information, Sheppard's the pussy. I'm …." _Yogi. Or is that Boo Boo?_

"Gyah!" Rodney slapped his hands over his eyes, then ran them down to his mouth. "I can't believe this – I'm going Gollum," he mumbled around his hands. "This is insane. Okay, okay, okay. Get a grip, McKay." He sucked in a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and fixed his normal determined scowl back in place. "Screw this. No more of the 'I can' crap. I _will_ do it. I. Will." His inner voice threatened snark, and he raised a finger. "You can just shut the hell up. I'm sick of you butting in …."

"Excuse me?"

Rodney damn near fell out of his chair when he heard Teyla. He quickly glanced to the open door and took in her less than amused expression. "No no no. Not you. Never you. Oh God, no. I was, um, ah, thinking out loud. Debating out loud, with myself – it gets the old mind, uh, working. Better than coffee and a slap in the face or a bucket of cold water…." He watched one of her bronze eyebrows arch upwards. "I, um, should just shut up now, huh?"

"That would be wise."

Rodney could feel his face burning as he turned his chair back around to face his computer. Then a moment later he caught her wonderful scent over the eucalyptus, then a second after that …. "Thumbprint cookies?" He spun back around. "Really?"

Teyla sat the covered plate down and pulled away the napkin. "With huckleberry jam."

Rodney had two of the small cookies in his mouth before Teyla even finished her sentence. He moaned in pure bliss. "Oh, man. I haven't had thumbprint cookies since, since Christmas my senior year in college. Nana made them." He grabbed two more and saw Teyla was smiling as she nibbled on one as well. "You'd like my Nana – she taught me how to make my first …." He dang near blurted out 'pipe bomb', but being that that was highly illegal, and he'd get into enough trouble with his science-fair atom bomb several years later, he quickly changed the subject. "She was deep frying turkeys long before the craze hit everywhere else south of the border. And mashed potatoes, too, now that I think about it."

"I see." Teyla tone was serious, but her eyes were flashing copper in pure amusement. She reached out and snagged one more before they were all gone. "Someday you will have to tell me more about your Nana. She sounds … interesting."

"Gladly." Rodney chewed away happily for a moment. "I swear she was the only one in the whole family who understood me."

Teyla's hand paused, cookie at her lips. She lowered it, and that one eyebrow rose again. "I find that vaguely alarming."

Rodney grinned. "Yeah, come to think about it – it is, isn't it?"

-oOo-

The big day came, and needless to say Rodney was a nervous wreck. He actually stayed in his room as long as he could stand it, which meant until he ran out of the last of his stash of sandwiches and Doritos and drank two pots of coffee.

That was when he found himself standing in front of Sheppard's door. He raised his hand to knock, but paused and cocked his head. The doors were fairly soundproof, but with his now incredibly sensitive ears he could hear music on the other side, some bluesy guitar work that was really quite good – couldn't tell if it was Clapton or Stevie Ray Vaughn – and he listened for a moment before he knocked spastically.

The music cut off immediately and a moment later the door slid open. John grinned. "Hey, Rodney. Figured you'd be in your lab this morning."

Rodney let out a strangled laugh. "Believe it or not, I'm too, um, nervous to work."

John's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. Who are you and what have you done with McKay?"

Rodney just replied with a simpering little grin.

"Well, come on in." John stepped aside and Rodney came in. "Man, you smell like a Starbucks." He closed the door. "Need anything? I do have some stuff, not much. Juice, water, beer, popcorn…."

"What kind of popcorn?"

"Only kind – mega buttery clog the arteries movie theater popcorn."

The corner of Rodney's mouth rose. "Okay. Sounds good."

"You got it."

While John went to make that Rodney glanced around the front room of John's quarters. He hadn't been in these rooms yet – he'd been in the guest room John had when he first came to Atlantis – and he was curious. For some reason he expected a jungle theme, but what he saw was Spartan and damn near military neat. He had a few model planes scattered about, no doubt ones he'd flown in the past, a couple small wildlife bronzes, and the only picture on the wall was a poster of Johnny Cash. And books. One of the bookcases by the desk was filled, and from the looks of the spines of the paperbacks they were untouched. He squinted at a titles and saw a collection as wild and varied as what was down in the library. "Not much of a reader?"

John glanced that way. "Voracious, actually. Finally getting to my backlog. Donated all the ones I have read to the library."

"Huh." Rodney turned around and saw an acoustic guitar leaning against the couch. The thing was obviously quite old – the stain on the neck and in the spacings between the frets was rubbed away, and the fancy plate next to the whole was worn through to the wood beneath. "Whoa. That was you earlier?"

John actually looked a touch embarrassed. "Yeah."

"You're good."

"Thanks." While the popcorn was just starting to gear up John stepped past Rodney and put his guitar back in its case. "Only thing of my mother's I got to keep after she … died." He closed the case reverently and sat it out of the way. "Taught myself how to play when my hands got bigger."

Rodney was finally starting to get his head wrapped around the whole scent thing. Or at least his exceptional brain and subconscious were, because his conscious brain still didn't have a freakin' clue half the time. Even though the room was permeated with, well, _John_, he was starting to detect changes. Right now the man had a faint, somewhat warm smell that pretty much reminded him of clean, sun warmed cotton on top of the now subdued musky scent. But there was a sharp quality to it – not bitter – that made him feel like, well… shit. "I'll take a beer."

John's eyebrows went up. "Okay, beer it is." He got up, pulled a pretty big bowl off of a shelf, dumped the first bag of popcorn in it, started another bag, and pulled two beers from the fridge. "I have a the newest Halo, if you're interested," he said as he handed one to Rodney.

"Really?" He took a drink. "You're on."

They killed aliens until Teyla came to get them for dinner. John hadn't locked the door, so she just walked in and stood there and watched them play the video game.

The was an empty six pack worth of bottles on the coffee table, a bowl with a suspicious residue and unpopped kernels, a couple empty bags of chips, and several Powerbar wrappers. Rodney was sprawled comfortably on the couch, and John sat cross-legged on the floor. Rodney suddenly let out a squawk. "Hey, Colonel Snagglepuss, you shot me! Deliberately!"

"Well, General Yogi, quit getting in my way!"

"Oh, hey, three o'clock…."

"I see him."

The room filled with the sound of video explosions and Teyla had to laugh at the dual looks of concentration on the two men's faces. "You are both truly twelve-years-old."

John, lips drawn in and the tip of his tongue showing, just sent her a quick, _Hey, Teyla_.

Rodney jumped but his attention didn't leave the screen. "Hi. Busy now." His fingers were flying over the control in his hands. He made some guttural noises. "They're breaking through."

"I see it. I see it. Better get the BFG ready."

"Way ahead of you."

Since it looked like it was going to be a minute, Teyla wandered over to the unoccupied chair and took a seat. It actually took close to ten minutes, and by the time they finally cleared that particular level and did high fives she was giggling uncontrollably. Their antics were truly … amusing. They shut the game off and John shook his hands out. "Dinner time already?" he said to Teyla.

"Oh, man, really?" Rodney rubbed his eyes, then blinked at his watch. "Huh."

"Are you up to a trip to the cafeteria?" Teyla asked, her eyes still crinkled in amusement. "Or would you like us to bring dinner back here?"

"Um…." He glanced back and forth between them. Did he want to risk unknown roaming odors since he forgot his lip balm? "Here?"

Despite sitting on the floor for the past four hours, legs crossed, John flowed to his feet with such smooth grace it made Rodney feel a faint stab of jealousy. "Hey, no problem. Back in a flash." He easily gathered up the empties in his long fingered hands and dropped them in the garbage. "Any special requests?" he asked as grabbed the empty wrappers as well.

"Some extra pudding?."

"You got it."

They left, and Rodney stood and stretched his lower back. There were a few ominous pops, and his tailbone was numb, but everything else had feeling. And he had to pee. The first time he made his way back to the bathroom he deliberately tried not to look at anything too closely. He just went back, got the job done, and returned to the game. This time he did glance around. And decided the military neatness of the front room was just, well, John. The bed was made, there weren't any clothes draped over things, he could see the floor…. In other words, a total opposite of his own quarters. There were a couple books stacked on the bed stand, but he couldn't read their titles from where he stood.

There were some framed photographs setting on one of the dressers. One was a small little Kodak moment of a gorgeous woman with coal black hair and luminous green eyes, and a little boy with familiar cowlicks and missing both front teeth. They were on a beach somewhere, and you could practically feel the happiness radiating from the photo. Next to it was a blow up of John in a flight suit, sunglasses, hands on hips, grinning like a maniac and standing in front of a – holy crap – stealth fighter. And next to it was him in desert fatigues with a group of eight men all giving the camera a double bird.

The one thing about all three pictures that struck Rodney was how incredibly _happy_ the man looked. He'd seen him smile before, but not like that.

He quickly used the bathroom, and as he washed his hands he resisted the urge to peek in the medicine cabinet. That was just too much, and the thought alone kind of weirded him out. He dried his hands quickly and left, and when he was about to the door he stopped and stared. On the dresser across from the bed was a piece of sculpture that caught his eye. He wandered over to it and found it was actually a round vase, about a foot high, and was carved from solid jade. He'd looked through enough National Geographics when he was younger to recognize it was Mayan, and when he leaned in closer he could see the deep bas-relief carvings had just one theme….

Jaguars.

The top and bottom lips were carved in the pictoglyphs the Mayans used, and someday he'd love to know what they read. Because, seriously – he had no doubt in his mind that the thing was genuine. It just had an aura of age about it. And it was pretty damn cool. Out of curiosity he lifted the lid, glanced into it, and saw John's dog tags and those multi-colored bar thingies and a couple of silver bars. He immediately felt more like a peeping tom than he would have looking in the medicine cabinet and backed away.

Some day he had to ask him about that vase. But not now.

Rodney returned to the front room and plopped down on the couch. A wave of _John_ rose up from it and it dawned on him – it didn't make him want to run away or drop and roll onto his back anymore. He was getting used to it – or his lizard brain was. Whatever. No more panic attacks was fine by him. He sat for a little while, his fingers tapping out a spastic rhythm on his stomach, and glanced around. "Bored, now," he muttered. The coffee table was covered with crumbs so he took a moment to brush them into the empty popcorn bowl. He sat for maybe twenty seconds more before he was up rummaging through the fridge. "Jeez, no junk food? Oh, wait – we ate it all…. Ah-ha!" He found a couple cans of Coke in the back behind the fruit juice and snagged one. He about had that one empty and was thinking about grabbing the second when John and Teyla came back with dinner. He took in a deep, deep breath through his nose. "Buttermilk battered fried chicken, mashed potatoes with country gravy, and, and fresh green beans."

"You cheated and looked at the menu," John said as he handed over a tray.

"Nope. Trust me, even before all this weirdness started, this nose has always known when it comes to food. It's just that now I can smell it from a mile away."

John chuckled as he sat his tray on the coffee table. Teyla settled down on the floor as Rodney took the couch. John grabbed two bottles of water and the last Coke before he joined them. When he settled down gracefully next to Teyla, Rodney snorted.

"You two are disgusting," he said as he unwrapped his non-silver silverware.

"What?" John asked as he opened one of the water bottles and handed it to Teyla. He popped open the can of Coke and sat it in front of Rodney.

"I swear - you both move like freakin' ballet dancers. Makes me feel like I have two left feet and my knees are attached backwards."

"You have grace, too, Rodney," Teyla said. When Rodney grimaced she smiled. "When you are working on your computer, your hands move like a concert pianist. It is really quite amazing to watch."

Rodney's head came up from his chicken, his eyes bright and a slightly embarrassed smile on his face. "Really? I do?" Then he ducked his head. "I, um, I did play piano when I was younger. Was quite good, actually."

"Do you still play?" Teyla's dinner consisted mainly of fresh fruit and vegetables, and she picked up a carrot and delicately took a bite. She ate meat on occasion, and when she did, it was usually blood rare.

"Haven't in years. But I'm sure it would all come back."

"Watching you and Radek work together is pretty awesome, too," John said as he picked up his chicken. "You two weave in and out like a couple of figure skaters. Keep waiting for a collision, but it never happens." He took a big bite.

Rodney's shoulders slumped a little. "Please, if you're going to use some kind of ice skating metaphor – use hockey. Figure skating is just so … girly."

John grinned as he chewed, then swallowed. "I don't know, McKay – the sparkly spandex is pretty hot." He growled then took another bite. "But not on the guys."

"Exactly," Rodney replied. Then he giggled. "'Blades of Glory' was actually pretty funny, in a squirm inducing way."

"Will Ferrell seriously needs to keep his clothes on," Teyla added.

"Oh, c'mon," John said and lightly nudged Teyla. "Chaz Michael Michael was smokin' hot. I saw you grinning."

Teyla fixed him with a flat stare. "I will hurt you. And that wasn't a 'grin' – it was a grimace from acid indigestion."

"Uh huh." Just when he was about to take another bite he flinched sideways and said _ow_. "Hey, you forked me." He dramatically checked the side of his black t-shirt for any holes.

Rodney blinked, then snickered. John joined him a moment later.

Teyla sighed. "Yes, definitely twelve-years-old."

-oOo-

On the way to the mess to return the trays after dinner, John ran into Carson. The doctor was looking a little stressed. "Say, John, have yae seen Rodney? I don't think he has his radio and I've been trying to call him."

"Yeah, doc. Been with me all day. I've been distracting him with video games."

Carson let out a heavy sigh of relief. "That's good. I was worried – I expected him to be running into the infirmary bellowing for tranquilizers."

John chuffed. "No, no – he's actually been pretty calm. The four beers helped."

Carson raised his eyebrows at him.

"Hey, they were spaced well apart." They stopped in the atrium just outside of the mess. "Is everything set up?"

"Just about. Just have a few pieces of equipment to move." For the sake of Rodney's privacy, and to discourage any looky-loos, they had decided to set up in the quarantine rooms down on SL2. It was contained, quiet, and easily secured if anything went wrong. "Jen and I were just taking a break for supper. Then we'll have everything done and ready to go."

"Good, good." John took in a deep breath, his lips briefly sucked in. "I was thinking – the Change is pretty draining. I was going to ask Becca if she could make up a big tray of sandwiches for tonight – lots of peanut butter, high calorie stuff. I think Rodney will be pretty hungry afterwards. I personally don't remember my first time, but from what Teyla has told me from a few she's witnessed, part of the reason why the cursed get so out of hand at the beginning is because they _are_ hungry and the animal just goes crazy. And we already know what Rodney's normal appetite is like."

Carson nodded. "Point well taken. And a very good idea. I can see to that if yae like."

"Okay."

"How was that legendary appetite tonight?"

John glanced down at the short stack of trays he was holding. "Well, practically licked his clean, stole my dessert, and a banana off of Teyla's. I'd say normal, with the exception of the banana."

Carson grinned. "Good. I have asked Ronon and Lorne to be present, just in case."

"No tranqs?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. When it comes time, I want everyone out of the room, for safety's sake. Just me and Teyla as back up." When Carson started to frown, John lifted an eyebrow. "You know how strong I am – Teyla's stronger."

Carson's mouth actually dropped open. "Bloidy hell."

"So, between the two of us, we'll have it handled." John smiled. "But it'll be nice to have them there, anyway. I know Rodney trusts them."

They headed into the mess. "How many sandwiches should I order?"

"Eh, couple dozen. We'll probably all need a snack, too. Gonna be a long night."

"Definitely. I'll have some coffee and tea sent down, too." He smiled up at John, but it was weary. "I'm worried about him."

"I am, too, doc," John replied quietly. "But he's a stubborn sonuvabitch. He'll do fine."

"Aye, that he is, when he's not being a hypochondriac. I'll have some good stuff ready just in case."

John nodded to him. "I'll bring him down an hour before moonrise. See ya then." Carson nodded, and they parted ways.

_End Note: At least Rodney won't have to be, um, "prodded" into changing...._


	8. VIII: A Canadian Werebear in Atlantis

_Author's Note: And now, the moment you've been waiting for. And drufan - you've watched waaaay too many Yogi cartoons. ;)_

**VIII: A Canadian Werebear In Atlantis**

While John was taking the trays back, Rodney had a moment alone with Teyla. He leaned back against the couch and clasped his hands together. "So, um, you're going to be there, right?"

Teyla nodded. "Yes, Rodney, I will."

"And you've seen this all before?"

"I have."

"I'm not going to, um, embarrass myself by, uh, you know...." He grimaced and turned a little red. "…Messing myself?" he finally said in a small voice.

"No, Rodney, you will not. But I would recommend changing out of those jeans and into some shorts or sweat pants. Your legs will most likely change, and you have seen John's in his true form."

Rodney nodded. "Yeah, they look pretty freaky. It's scary how fast he can run like that."

"It is impressive."

Rodney suddenly stood up. "Well, I'm going to run back to my quarters and change. I'll be right back."

"I will be here." Only after the door closed behind him did Teyla let her serene mask relax into a faint concerned frown. He was putting up a very good front, but she could feel the fear bubbling beneath. It wasn't so pronounced when he and John were playing the video game, but through dinner she could feel it build. No doubt John did as well.

A couple minutes later John returned, and the first thing he did was freeze and glance around. "Where's…."

"He went to change into looser clothing."

"Oh. Was going to suggest that." He was already in sweats and a t-shirt. He kicked the unlaced running shoes he'd slipped on to go to the mess and dropped down into his overstuffed chair, one leg draped over the arm, and rubbed his face. "I ran into Carson downstairs – suggested getting a big mess of sandwiches ready for after the Change."

"Ah, that is a very good idea."

John dropped his hand to his stomach. "Lorne and Ronon will be there for moral support." He sighed heavily. "Gonna be a long night."

"You felt him during dinner?" John nodded. "I will try to keep him calm during the actual change with some empathic redirection. That may help."

John nodded, then his expression shifted to something … softer. "Thank you, Teyla, for being here for all of this. I mean it – I don't think I could have handled this completely on my own. It's good to have another … Pretender around for, well, support."

Teyla lowered her eyes briefly. "And I must apologize to you, John. I overreacted the other day. When I heard 'tests' I immediately assumed the worst due to … prior experience here." She met his gaze and caught the haunted shadow that briefly passed there. "When I saw how respectful Carson and Jennifer were treating you, and the explanations they gave me, I realized how wrong I was. I still have concerns about the confidentiality – but for my sharpness…. Forgive me."

John grinned and nodded. "I forgive you." Then he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt. "So, um, was it the little flag, or the eyebrows?"

"Neither, really, though they were both adorable," Teyla said. Her eyes lightened. "It was actually those little blue running shorts. They complimented your black fur quite nicely." When John suddenly looked up, his ears starting to go red, she laughed softly. "I'm sure Jennifer will show you the pictures."

John just slid down in his chair and groaned. "I didn't see the camera this time. I thought I was safe." He saw Teyla slowly shake her head. "Oh, man."

There was a quick rap on the door and Rodney just came on in. He had changed to sweats but was still wearing a flannel shirt over a t-shirt. He stopped in the middle of the room and glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Okay, what did I miss?" he asked as he took his seat on the couch. Something had happened – he could see and smell it, and it was bringing a goofy grin to his face. Didn't understand why, but it just did.

"I was just complimenting him on his running shorts from the other day."

"Oh. I didn't really pay much attention to those, but I did notice the excessive drooling. Am I going to be doing that? Or is it just a cat thing?"

"It was the mouth piece," John replied. "It didn't fit right, and my fangs punched through it."

"Uh huh." Rodney looked at Teyla and rolled his eyes.

"Keep it up and you'll be drooling in a minute."

"Oooo, you have me so scared." And for just a second, his mask slipped and he truly did seem scared. But he managed to get it mostly back in place, and even though he could tell John and Teyla fully noticed, they kept their comments to themselves. He silently thanked them for that. He picked up the game controller from where he left it on the floor. "So, we have a few hours to kill." He said it pretty casually, but his eyes were still a little too wide for the tone he used. "Think we can get through the next level?"

"Easily," John said as he just oozed out of the chair. He stepped around Teyla and sat down. He suddenly glanced at her. "Um, would you like to try?"

"No, thank you. Watching you two is amusing enough as is."

John grinned a little sheepishly and turned the game console back on.

"No shooting me in the back this time."

"Well, no running in front of me then."

"Okay."

"Okay!"

Teyla was snickering at the last, narrow-eyed glance between the two before the game even finished booting up. And a couple hours later hadn't quit. They really were boys. And at last count, they had shot each other's characters six times each.

But a short time later she started to grow concerned. Rodney's face was flushed and a fine sheen of sweat blanketed his face. She could sense some mild distress from him as well as that undercurrent of fear. _John, have you noticed…?_

_Yeah, and his scent is way off._ "Okay, break – I need to p… um, run to the bathroom." He paused the game, then glanced casually at Rodney. "Hey, you feeling okay? You look a little green around the gills."

"Not really," Rodney said as he swiped at the sweat beading on his upper lip. "My stomach is … upset. Got any antacids?" He pulled his flannel shirt off and they could see sweat stains starting under his arms.

"Yeah, in the bathroom. I'll grab 'em." As he got up he sent to Teyla, _See if you can check him for a fever._

_All right. This concerns me – moonrise is still over two hours away._

_I know._ John disappeared into the back.

"Can I get you some water?" Teyla asked.

"Um, okay." Rodney wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel, then just dropped it on the couch. Teyla got a bottle out of the fridge and handed it to him. He held it to his forehead before he opened it and drank a little.

Teyla put the back of her hand against his cheek, and he actually halfway smiled at her. "You are very warm." She stretched her senses out and confirmed a fever starting.

"And you have very cool hands." He sipped some more water and made a face, then covered his mouth to burp. "Oh, that was nasty," he muttered.

John came back and set a bottle of antacid on the table. "Look at that – hadn't even cracked the seal yet."

Rodney put down the water, grabbed the antacid, opened it, and chugged straight from the bottle. And grimaced. "I hate the mint. Tastes too much like toothpaste."

"I kind of like it," John muttered.

A very low gurgle emerged from Rodney's gut and made his eyes go wide. "Um, I'll be right back." He got to his feet and dashed to the bathroom.

John and Teyla looked at each other, and without a spoken or sent word followed.

When Rodney came out he saw Teyla sitting on the corner of the bed and John leaning against the wall by the door. He grimaced sheepishly and closed the door behind him. "You, ah, might want to avoid that room for a few." He put a hand on his stomach, his grimace growing more pained. He was white, and the skin on his cheeks and around his eyes was livid. "I think things are settling now."

Teyla stood and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Come, sit, rest." Rodney's head sort of bobbled her way, and his grimace eased a little.

John could feel her redirecting some of his unease away. He knew how well it could work on pain – he didn't realize how effective it could be on fear, too. Well, she did call it _empathic_ redirection…. He smiled at Teyla and sent a mental _thank you_. She briefly smiled back, and it was so _kind_ for a second his smile dissolved into a goofy grin.

They went back to the front room and Rodney sat down in the big, overstuffed chair this time. Teyla handed him his water, and he took a few more sips. And belched again and reached for the antacid. "Oh, man," he grumbled. He glared up at John. "Would you please sit down and quit hovering? You're making me nervous."

John plopped down on the couch. He noticed he didn't tell Teyla to quit hovering. She was sitting on the arm of the chair, her hand resting lightly on the back of Rodney's neck. She started to stand, but Rodney waved a hand. "No, no. You … you can stay. I don't mind your hovering."

John chuffed. "Yeah, now I see how you are."

"You're too hairy for my tastes. And she smells better." Suddenly his eyes went wide, and he glanced up in horror at Teyla. "Um…."

Teyla laughed softly. "It is all right, Rodney. I understand."

Rodney's face actually got back to a normal color briefly as he put the water bottle to his lips and sunk down a little ways in the chair.

"You, ah, want to continue, or call it?" John asked. When Rodney waved he picked up his controller, saved the game, and shut everything down. They sat in silence for a few minutes. "Well, you've got color again. That's a good sign."

"Stomach feels better." Rodney laughed weakly and sat the water and antacid back down on the table. "Must be nerves."

"It could very well be," Teyla said. She put a hand to his forehead. "But you do feel like you are feverish."

"Is this normal?" When she paused, he moaned. "Oh crap, it isn't, is it?"

"Please, Rodney, try to stay calm. Everything will be fine."

"I wish everybody would quit saying that! How the hell do you know? You've never been through this, and he was born furry. So please, quit treating me like a ch…."

John felt it coming. So did Teyla. The big popcorn bowl was still under the table, and he kicked it Rodney's way just as the physicist doubled over and vomited up dinner. The stream hit the side of the bowl and tipped it briefly. Some hit the carpet and the coffee table, but thankfully most of it went into the bowl. John immediately was on his feet. He grabbed the roll of paper towels on the microwave and tossed them to Teyla, then he was dashing back to the bathroom to get some wash cloths and hand towels. When he came back Rodney was still doubled over and was just in time for a second wave. He folded the cool cloth and put it on the back of Rodney's neck. The warm one he handed to Rodney who immediately wiped his mouth.

"OhGodI'msosorry," he managed to get out before the next wave hit. Teyla had wiped some of the mess up, then was cleaning her hands off and back by his side.

"Hey, don't worry about it," John said as he attacked the mess with the sturdier towels. "I'll just borrow a spot steamer from janitorial, and boom, good as new."

"S'notwhatImeant." On the next spasm mainly drool came out, and after a couple more it ended. Teyla handed him the water and he rinsed his mouth out. Then he flopped back in the chair, his face dripping sweat. "I hate puking." He turned the washcloth inside out and wiped at his face. "And for your information, I _was_ apologizing to God, because I obviously did something to piss off Him and every other pantheon that exists or is extinct to deserve this."

John snorted. That Rodney was being snarky was a very good sign. "Think I can get rid of this now?" Rodney nodded weakly. "I'll be quick, just in case. And, um, garbage can is right there." He took it into the bathroom, dumped it, and rinsed it out as fast as he could. He was just in time to see Rodney dry-heaving into the washcloth when he returned. "Oh, man, that brings back memories."

Rodney quit, and flopped back again. "At least you got to puke on _your_ nemesis." His voice sounded horrible. "Oh, wait, scratch that. _Puking on_ my unknown nemesis is what started this entire hell/handbasket thing." Then his eyes flew open. "Oh, crap. Bathroom. Outta the way." He struggled to get out of the squishy chair, but less than a second later he was grabbed by the arms by both John and Teyla and hoisted to his feet like he didn't weigh a thing. "Thanks," he grated out before he shuffled off in a fast silly gait that proved he was clenching his cheeks pretty dang hard.

Under normal circumstances John would have found it comical. But not now. "We need to get him downstairs, pronto."

"I agree."

John grabbed his radio earpiece – it was sitting on the bookshelf by the couch – placed it, and tapped it. "Beckett, Keller – either one. Please respond."

"Carson here."

"We're bringing Rodney down ASAP. Is everything ready?"

"It is. What's wrong?"

"He's feverish, and stuff's coming out both ends. It's got us both worried."

"All right. Do yae need any help?"

"No, we can manage it. See you in a few. Sheppard out." He glanced at Teyla. "He's ready."

Teyla closed her eyes briefly and nodded.

They met Rodney as he came out of the bathroom. "C'mon, pal. Carson's got your suite all ready and is expecting us."

"Good," Rodney replied weakly. He had absolutely no color now. "I was going to suggest we head down now." He didn't even protest when John grabbed an arm and hoisted it over his shoulder. "Damn, what a waste of really good fried chicken."

"When this is all over, I'll ask Doris to fry you up a whole one. How's that sound?"

"Really freakin' horrible at the moment."

Teyla led the way, and since she had her set of security passes in her pocket she just simply commandeered the first elevator. There were two people in it, and they looked a bit startled. "Medical emergency, please step out." They did so without hesitation. One look at McKay, and they backed up even more. "Thank you," Teyla said with a tight smile and keyed the elevator to take them to SL2. The second the door closed, Rodney had another bout of dry heaves. All he left on the floor was drool.

"Janitorial is so gonna hate me after this." He was still doubled over and it felt like his insides no longer wanted anything to do with him and wished to secede that instant.

"Eh, if they have any problems, they can talk to me," John said and bared his teeth briefly.

"I hope that sonuvabitch is roasting in hell right now," Rodney panted out. The wave of agony passed, finally, and he was able to take some of his weight back onto his own two feet. He didn't even realize John and Teyla were the only reason he was still upright. "If he wasn't already dead, I'd kill him."

The doors opened and Keller was waiting for them. She immediately had her hands on his forehead and neck. "My God – you're burning up. Have you taken any Tylenol?"

Rodney let out a weak laugh. "Are you kidding? In the last twenty minutes I've puked and crapped out everything back to formula."

Keller's mouth clamped down on a bit of a grin. "Well, you're still snarky – I take that as a good sign."

"Wow, I do believe there's an echo in here," John said.

"Har har." It came out as two pants.

The quarantine rooms were a short trip down the hall from the main elevators. Even then, Rodney was so glad he had help because his legs didn't even feel like they were attached to the same body as the rest of him. And when they reached the outer door, they gave out entirely.

"Got him," John said and just scooped him up. "You know, pal, this is getting to be a habit I really don't want to continue. People are gonna talk." Keller opened the door for them.

"You carried me before?" Rodney's voice was rough and really weak. "When? I don't remember."

"At the airport, and you were out cold."

"Oh." Rodney held a very shaky hand to his forehead. "Wish I was out cold now."

Carson was waiting for them outside of the first room on his right, and John's pulse actually shot up a bit. "Gee, they gave you my old suite," John said quietly as he shuffled on inside and set Rodney on the bed. "Good thing they redecorated." He backed away quickly so Carson and Keller could have room.

"Well, Rodney – I'd say you're looking a bit peaked, but I would be lying right now," Carson said as he took his friend's temperature. "One-oh-five point four." He sighed. "Since your new temperature is one hundred, I'm not going to panic until it hits one-oh-seven." He glanced at John and Teyla. "How long since onset?" he asked as he pulled on some gloves.

John, who had his arms crossed and was swiveling back and forth faintly, raised a hand and shrugged. "Maybe half an hour, tops."

They were all distracted by Rodney curling up into a fetal position and groaning, then came the dry heaves.

Carson had a syringe ready. "Okay, Rodney – I have something for the nausea. You'll be right as rain shortly." While Rodney was still in that position, he quickly pulled down the back of his sweats and boxers to just expose the top of a pale cheek, swabbed, and that was that.

Rodney jumped faintly. "I can never understand why something for nausea has to go there. Not. Logical. At all." He stayed curled up, shivering.

Carson chuckled as he pulled everything up, then he and Keller covered him with a blanket. A moment later Keller was holding a small cup to Rodney's lips. "I need you to drink this, Rodney. It's just liquid Tylenol for your fever."

Rodney lifted his head enough to down it. "Gah. Tastes like Kool-Aid from hell." He settled back down and drew the blanket up around his neck. "God I'm cold. Couldn't you have warmed this up first? Better yet – I want the good stuff. I want to be fully anesthetized and on morphine. The sooner the better."

John glanced at his watch, then at Teyla. _Still over an hour and a half to moonrise. This is not good._

_Perhaps we should have Carson sedate him._

_You read my mind._ John grinned down at Teyla, but she just looked up at him, one eyebrow faintly cocked. He rubbed his nose and shrugged sheepishly. _I know. I know. Bad telepath joke._

_Older than the pyramids joke._

Carson and Keller set Rodney up on an i.v. drip to keep him hydrated, attached various leads to monitors, and took vitals. They worked quickly and efficiently, and the only conversation in the room were soft reassurances to Rodney. After Carson took his blood pressure, he placed a hand on his arm and said, "I want to administer a mild sedative – your blood pressure is a bit too high for my liking right now. Are you keen on that?"

"I'd be more keen on full unconsciousness, but hey – I'll take it."

Carson snorted softly as he picked up another prepared syringe and slowly injected it into the i.v. port. He kept his eyes on the monitor above Rodney's head, and within a few minutes those numbers slowly began to drop. So did Rodney's eyelids, and it wasn't long before he was Pink Floyding. "All right. Get some blood samples and send them up to the lab right away. I'm going to want a full comparison between before and after the Change."

"Okie dokie," Keller replied.

Carson took a moment to make sure Rodney was tucked in all safe and sound, scribbled a few notes, then finally joined John and Teyla over by the door. "His blood pressure had me scared – it's high enough as is, and I don't want him to blow a gasket with this, this thing." He ran both hands down his face.

John peeked around Carson – Rodney was face-planted into the pillow now, his mouth partly open. "I was gonna say, that was a bit more than just a 'mild sedative' there."

"And if he has a metabolism anywhere close to yours now, it won't last very long." Carson gestured for them to move out into the hallway. Several tables were set up, and one had a couple thermoses from the cafeteria and an assortment of teas as well as the appropriate condiments. Just as Carson opened his mouth the outer doors to the quarantine area opened and Lorne and Ronon ambled in. Lorne headed straight for the coffee.

"Heard the call over the network," Lorne said as he poured a cup. "Figured we'd come early just in case."

"How is he?" Ronon simply asked.

"Cranky, puking, snarky, and scared shitless," John replied. "Basically what we expected, except for the puking part."

"Tell me everything that happened," Carson said and crossed his arms. John and Teyla did, and it only took two minutes, tops. After they finished they all turned and watched Keller take the last of the blood samples and tuck Rodney's arm back under the blanket. She came out and smiled faintly at everyone as she headed to the end of the hall. There was a small lab/office there, which John had never noticed before, and she quickly labeled the samples and sent them upstairs in a contraption that looked like a mega-padded version of a bank drive-through canister. She took a moment to type in some instructions, then came out and joined everyone.

"Sleeping like a baby," she said.

"Good. Good." Carson ran a hand through his hair. "Now, I guess we wait."

-oOo-

A half an hour before moonrise, Rodney woke up screaming. His voice was already raw from the dry heaves earlier, so when the first ragged scream tore through the room he sounded like he was being flayed alive. Keller was present at that moment, checking the i.v. bag, and it wrenched a short, startled shriek out of her.

Rodney started to kick and flail at the blanket wrapped around him. His skin was livid, and in a manner of seconds sweat was running freely down his face. "Get them off! Oh God, get them off of me!" Hands hooked into claws, he started digging at his skin.

People rushed in from the hall as Keller tried to grab his hands. "Shh. Shh. It's all right, Rodney. We're right here. Please, calm down. It's all right." She managed to capture one wrist, and was almost knocked across the room.

Then John was right there on the other side of the bed. He caught Rodney's wrists, and the muscles stood out in his own forearms as he stilled them – they already agreed there would be no actual restraints. All they'd do was get Rodney hurt and just possibly make him freak out even more. "Oh, hey there, buddy. It's okay. Take her easy – you about knocked the tiny doctor ass over teakettle." He glanced to the left and saw Ronon and Teyla had his legs and Carson helping Keller up.

Another raw scream welled up from Rodney, and his back arched off the bed. "Make them stop! Carson, Sheppard – make them stop! _Please_!" The last word dragged out until he ran out of breath.

"Stop what, Rodney?" Carson asked soothingly as his eyes danced over the various monitors.

Rodney drew in a deep breath that shook his entire body. "The worms. Digging, digging, burning up, _digging_." His entire body heaved upward, and John had to lean into it just to keep him on the bed and from trying to rip his skin open. Rodney let out another bellow and _writhed_.

Carson picked up a syringe and pulled the cap off with his teeth. John glanced at him. "More sedative?"

"Morphine." Through some miracle the port was still attached to Rodney's hand and he injected the drug.

Rodney continued to twist and squirm, and if anything, it felt like he was getting stronger instead of weaker. "Teyla?" He glanced her way and saw her eyes were shining like polished copper.

"I am trying to redirect." Her face was shiny with a fine sheen of sweat. "But the fear and pain are … difficult to separate at the moment."

John looked down at Rodney. He could smell the adrenaline, the fear, and sense the animal at war within the man, and something responded deep in his own mind. He leaned all his weight on Rodney's wrists and opened his hands up, fingers splayed, and out of pure instinct Changed. He dug his claws deep into the mattress and locked Rodney's wrists in place.

Then he got right in the man's face, noses merely inches apart.

"Listen to me, McKay! Get. A. Goddamned. _Grip_!" _Everyone_ in the room flinched at the tone of his voice. Rodney's eyes got impossibly wide, his pupils dilated, and John hoped enough of the bear in him would react to the good old vargyr alpha pheromones that were surely pouring off of him at the moment. He heard the heart monitor shoot up, then alarms went off. He leaned in closer. "Are you listening to me?" His voice was low, but it had an edge to it that made Carson and Keller take a step back.

Rodney was shaking his head, tears mingling with the sweat now. "Oh, God. Kill me, Sheppard. I can't do this. Kill me, please, _killmekillmenowPLEASEKILLMENOW_."

"Sheppard," Carson said in warning as he hesitantly took a step towards them.

Rodney's pupils contracted briefly, his words trailed off, and his heart beat began to slow.

"I have his pain," Teyla said. "The morphine is helping me redirect it."

John stared deep into Rodney's eyes, and for a second he _swore_ he could sense the shadow of the bear within the physicist sizing him up, a huge dark shape just at the edge of his peripherals that made the fur from the crown of his head to the small of his back stand on end. It was a strong spirit, this one. But he could be a nasty sonuvabitch when he needed to be, and he focused on that with all his mind. He cocked his head, laid his whiskers flat, and bared his teeth. "Listen up, you pushy bastard." His voice was very low and almost pure jaguar growl. "Back the fuck off – your time is coming. Until then, leave my friend _alone_." He saw something click in Rodney's eyes, and a second later he went limp. John kept his grip for a moment, just to be sure, then backed away and let go.

"What the bloidy hell…."

John backed up against the wall, his pulse pounding in his temples. He was thinking pretty much along those lines himself at the moment. He rubbed his mouth, then glanced over at Teyla. She was staring at him, her mouth faintly open in pure amazement, and for some reason _that_ made him really really nervous.

"What just happened there?" Keller asked. She had a cloth and was wiping the sweat from Rodney's face. "Because, seriously, that was like X Files cool."

"Um," John said. "I, uh, went alpha?" _But it was more than that_, he thought as he was looking at Teyla, his own eyes wide. "Seemed like the thing to do?" His voice cracked at the end of that statement.

Teyla blinked. _That normally works _only _after the cursed has changed and the animal has asserted … control over the host._

_Yeah, I thought so, too – but I could sense it, Teyla. I could feel it in him._

Carson interrupted their unspoken conversation. "Whatever you did, it helped." Rodney was blinking blearily up at everyone. "Rodney? Can you hear me?"

Rodney swallowed and shook his head. "I can't do this, Cars'n. Hurts, skin hurts. Can't do this."

"I can help you, Rodney." Teyla passed between John and the bed and stood by Rodney's head. "We will get you through this. All of us." She rested her hand on his hot forehead and gently started stroking the spot between his eyebrows.

Rodney actually smiled faintly. "S'nice." John started to back away, but Rodney reached out. "No, no – don't go. I think it's 'fraid of you." His words were getting slurry and hard to understand.

John stepped up next to Teyla, and she smiled at him. "No going anywhere, buddy," he said, then awkwardly patted Rodney's hand.

"Good." Rodney just seemed to sink into the mattress. "I love morphine."

The next few minutes were conversation free as Carson and Keller checked Rodney's vitals – his fever was holding steady at one-oh-six point three – and jotted notes. Every once in awhile Rodney would tense up and moan, but there was no more screaming or writhing like earlier.

Lorne popped in and glanced around in alarm at everyone. "I, ah, brought the goodie tray down." He stepped in closer. "Hey, doc, no offense – but you look like crap."

"Bet I'll look worse later," Rodney sing-songed.

Lorne looked at Carson. "Pink Floyding?"

Carson's dimples showed when he nodded.

"Ah. We'll be just outside if you need us." Lorne motioned to Ronon and they left the room, but not after Ronon gave Rodney's foot a squeeze.

Keller left a moment later to see if the first blood samples were back from the main lab.

"Say, can I hire you to do this all the time?" Rodney asked Teyla. "Because, really, it feel s'absolutely wonderful."

"I'm sorry, Rodney, but no."

"Aww, c'mon." Suddenly his eyes went wide, and his entire body curled in short a spasm. "Ow."

John's watch alarm went off. He quickly shut it down. "Two minute warning, people."

"Crap." Carson started to remove the i.v. – they agreed earlier that it would be best so Rodney couldn't hurt himself. The heart monitor would stay since the pads would most likely just come off on their own. He'd learned in the past how poorly they stuck to John's fur when he Changed. "Rodney, Jennifer and I will be right outside."

"No no no no no." He grabbed Carson's jacket. "Don't wanna be alone."

"Teyla and I will be here," John said. "You won't be alone."

Another convulsion wracked Rodney. "Oh, God," he moaned.

"Better beat it, doc," John said as he and Teyla traded places. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked into Carson's tired eyes.

"Take care of him," he said.

"I will. You have my word."

Carson nodded and left. A moment later the door closed and locked.

Teyla shuffled around the bed and returned her hand to Rodney's forehead. "I can channel the pain or the fear, but not both."

"Settle on the fear – I think that will help more." John was holding Rodney down as gently as he could by his shoulders. "C'mon, pal – you can do this. Hang on."

Rodney replied with a cry of pain that came from his toes and made him arch off the bed.

"We are here, Rodney." Teyla's voice was calm, soothing.

They continued to offer reassurances until John looked at Teyla. "It's about here." She nodded and backed away until she was by the door.

Rodney suddenly went very still, his eyes and mouth open as wide as they could possibly go. John felt the muscles under his touch _squirm_ like dozens of tiny snakes were burrowing under the skin just as his friend took in a deep breath.

Rodney screamed as if his very soul was being torn from his body.

-oOo-

He was in hell.

Previously Rodney's concept of hell was being stuck teaching Intro to Physics in a community college for all of eternity, and his students were the vapid little twits from Beverly Hills 90210. Now he had a new definition of hell, and it involved billions of microscopic lava worms chewing their way through every nerve in his body, spasms that tried to rip the muscles clean off his bones, and glass shards and ice coursing through his veins. The morphine helped some, but whatever Teyla was doing helped even more. But still, it was hell, had more than enough, and he wanted it over and done with, thank you very much.

For just a second he got his wish and everything just … stopped. The relief shocked the hell out of him, and for that single razor sharp moment he was sure he was floating a good three feet off the bed.

Then he felt something large and dark and powerful _ooze_ into his skin with him and the pain slammed him back down out of his brief euphoria. Before was bad – now he was sure he was being torn apart at the subatomic level and being reassembled by a dozen chimpanzees equipped with blow torches and hammers. Roaring filled his head, he could not see, and the scents he picked up told him had to get out, get away, because there was _threatdangerfightrunnownowNOW_. Something had him trapped and he flailed and kicked and fought until he was free. He still could only hear roaring, and as he staggered around trying to find the exit – it was here, he knew it, where was it, damn it, I need out _NOW_ – something heavy landed on him. He fought, he struggled, and dislodged it. Door, where was the fucking door?

The weight landed on his back, and this time it dragged him down to the floor. He was begging, pleading to be set free, but all he could hear was that damn roaring. His left shoulder and neck really started to hurt, there was a tight pressure around his gut that was making it hard to breathe, and when he tried to cry out something clamped down over his mouth. The roaring did back off, and a second later he felt a cool touch on his forehead at the same time he heard a voice cut through everything like a thirty megaton explosion.

"Damn it, Rodney. Use … your … fucking … _brain!_"

The muffled roaring stopped completely.

"I thought you were a genius, McKay. Or is that only on paper?"

Rodney stiffened at the contemptuous tone and tried to say, "Now wait one damn minute." All that came out was a grunt, and a second later he could hear … singing? But not out loud. It was in the back of his head, and really quite … soothing.

"Do we have your attention now?"

Okay, that was Sheppard, but why was his voice so growly, and close? It sounded like it was right in his…. There was a short sharp pain in his ear and he jumped and whimpered, because damn, that _hurt_.

"Hey, you in there?"

Rodney nodded his head as much as he could. He finally realized he had his eyes scrunched shut as tight as they could go, and he slowly cracked them open. His vision was still black but oddly … fuzzy. He had a moment of panic before he realized what he was seeing was fur. Black fur. Because Sheppard had his hand wrapped tightly around his….

Muzzle?

"I'm going to let go now, Rodney. You with me, buddy?"

Rodney nodded again. He expected the hand to be taken away, but what he felt first was the pressure around his stomach easing. What the hell was wrapped around him? Then came the weight off his back, and as the painful hold around his shoulder and neck eased, so, too, did the grip around his, oh jeez, muzzle. He got a very good look at John's claws, claws so sharp the tips were practically crystal clear, as the hand, paw, whatever, lifted away. As soon as he was free, he sat up and scooted backwards across the floor on his butt until his back fetched up against something. Judging from the deep melodious tone it was the glass wall that looked out into the hallway.

Details slowly started to sink in. The hospital bed was on its side, as well as some of the monitors, and John and Teyla were sitting right in front of it. John was balanced on his long feet, sitting basically on his calves, and Teyla was kneeling next to him. Both had completely amazed expressions on their faces, and in John's case his whiskers were hanging limply.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer," Rodney said. Well, that's what he tried to say, but what came out was really rough – sounded like he was a barfly who smoked five packs a day and had just had a tonsillectomy – and oddly muffled as if he was back in braces _and_ a retainer.

"Holy shit!" John exclaimed and fell back on his ass.

Teyla's hand came up to her chest. "Rodney? You can … talk." Her voice was practically a whisper.

"Oh course I can talk." It came out garbled, but a little clearer and a lot more understandable. "What do you expect? I'm…." His words trailed off and his eyes got really wide. "Holy shit! I can talk!" His hands came up and he wiggled his fingers and grinned crookedly. "I'm not supposed to."

John was grinning just as lopsidedly. "Cool!"

Then Rodney was distracted by his hands. He held them up and stared in amazement. They were broader than before, his palms now light brown with pink freckles, and his fingers were tipped with claws easily two inches long. They weren't sharp or retractable like Sheppard's, but they looked like they could do some serious damage. He turned his hands this way and that – the backs and his forearms were covered with thick, glossy russet fur that had gold highlights that shimmered in the overheads.

"Wow," Rodney said softly, and the word was perfectly clear.

"You are … incredible," Teyla said. She rolled back onto her feet and moved in closer. She settled down next to him, and a moment later she put her hand on his cheek and turned his face towards her. Her expression was still awed, but also mildly disconcerted. "Rodney, do not take this wrong, but I don't think you are a …." She shook her head. "You do not look like any Ursus I've ever seen, true born or cursed."

"Have to agree with her, Rodney," John said. He was till just sitting there, one leg up, one splayed, and leaning back with a hand braced behind him and the other arm wrapped around his ribs. He had some pretty big tears in his t-shirt and one down his left thigh. He shook his head. "You smell like a bear, but …. Man, you sure as hell don't _look_ like one."

Rodney glanced back and forth between them, and shot to his feet. It shocked him how fast he did it, and he just stood there a second, blinked, then ran for the mirror over the sink. "Holy shit!"

The face that stared back at him still had his bright blue eyes, and the raised eyebrows were clear in the fur, kind of like a dog's eyebrows. Hell, his mouth still had the downward slope to the left, but now it was set in a blunt wide muzzle tipped by a – oh dear God – very brown bear nose. He leaned in closer. There were a few pink freckles where the fur met his now wiggly nose. He held his hands to his muzzle to keep it from wiggling even more. They were right – he looked more like a cross between a grizzly and a, well, gorilla. His ears were rounder, smaller, and seemed to sit up higher on his head now. He turned around and stared at the only other occupants in the room, and they were staring right back at him. He lowered his hands and looked down. Now Rodney knew he was built rather stoutly – hell, it took a lot of strength to lug or repair some of the equipment he used around the lab – but now he was a freaking block. His shoulders and chest were so deep and broad and – oh man – thick with muscle now he'd split the seams of his shirt. Just the collar, one very tight sleeve, and the bottom hem were all that he was wearing while the rest hung in tatters. At least he was still in the sweats.

He did a double take.

"Oh, hell no. My, my arms are longer than my legs! Oh, that is so not right." It was getting easier for him to speak around his muzzle and fangs now, and the despair in his voice was clear to everyone.

"Oh, quit your belly aching," John said. "At least your feet aren't as long as your shins." For emphasis, he held up one foot, spread his paw-like toes as wide as they would go, and waggled it back and forth a few times.

Rodney just started at him for a second or two and blinked. Then he let out an explosive and very amused bear-like snort. "Yeah, those are pretty damn freaky looking, now that you mention it."

Teyla even hid a giggle behind her hand, especially when John wiggled his cat toes at them.

They all heard the lock disengage and a second later Carson poked his head in. "I take it it's safe now?"

"Carson!" John shouted in warning.

"Of course it's safe," Rodney said, and his tone was pure agitated Rodney. "What did you expect, me rampaging around and ripping arms off like an enraged Wookie …." His words trailed off, his eyes got huge, and his new bearish nose was practically twitching off his face as his sense of smell announced to the rest of his animal brain and body that there was _FOOD!_

Carson proved he could move pretty damn fast when he needed to because he managed to not get bowled over by Rodney as he barreled out the door.

John and Teyla popped to their feet immediately and followed. They didn't need to worry – Rodney had found the huge gray plastic tub full of sandwiches. He was sitting on the floor, the tub in between his stubby legs, and he was shoving the things in as fast as he could chew and swallow. But John still glared at Carson. "Damn it – I told you not to open that door until we gave the all clear."

"Everything seemed all right," Carson replied.

John could feel the fear and concern coming of the man in overpowering wave. He softened his expression. "Sorry."

"He's just being overprotective," Teyla said and gave Carson a small, somewhat sheepish smile. Carson swallowed and nodded in understanding.

Lorne and Keller watched Rodney's feeding frenzy in fascinated horror, but Ronon just stood there, arms crossed, and grinned. "Hey, Sheppard, are you _sure_ he isn't a wereshark?"

"I'm sure," John said as he cautiously approached then crouched next to his friend. He kept his right arm pressed tight against his stomach. "Hey, Rodney – slow up. I don't know how easy it is to give the Heimlich to a bear."

Rodney had his head thrown back in pure bliss, a sandwich in each hand, crumbs stuck in the fur around his mouth. "Oh, God. I never knew peanut butter and honey could be so, so, so…." He just ended the sentence in a moan that was dang near pornographic.

"Okay, I really didn't need to hear _that_ in association with peanut butter," Keller said. She had a hand over her mouth, but her dimples were showing.

"Rodney, how are you feeling?" Carson asked cautiously.

"Eating here," Rodney mumbled around a mouthful.

"I think you're s.o.l. for a few, doc," Lorne replied with a grin of his own.

John noticed the Major's hand was behind his back, but he relaxed and returned his hand to his side a moment later and it made him wonder what the man had stashed in the waistband of his pants behind the loose tail of his shirt. He glanced at Ronon and saw he had his shirt untucked as well. Lorne noticed the scrutiny, and when John raised an eyebrow at him, he merely grimaced and shrugged. John chuffed softly.

Rodney's hand dove back into the tub, and the new sandwich stopped about eight inches from his mouth. "Huh. This one must be for you." He held it to John. "Tuna."

John took it. "Thanks, Yogi." He gladly took a big bite out of it.

Rodney waved a paw. "Anytime, Snagglepuss."

There were three layers of sandwiches in the tub – by the time Rodney finally quit there was less than half a layer. As he licked honey from his fingers – and it was funny to watch because one, it was Rodney, and two, he had a long flexible bear tongue now – he was humming rather contentedly.

John snagged the tub and sat it back on the table while Rodney was occupied. He hissed a little in discomfort as his back and side gave a twinge. He snagged another half of a tuna sandwich for himself, and as he backed away he saw Carson and Keller watching him in concern. "What?" he asked before he took a bite.

"You are aware you are bleeding?" Carson said.

"Yeah." John glanced down, then lifted his left arm up enough the check his side. He saw several drops on the floor, and only then did he finally pull his right arm away from his soaked t-shirt. He looked at the underside of his right arm and saw the matted fur around four sizeable gashes. "Man, didn't feel _that_ bad."

"There are some on your back, too," Teyla added.

"Come with me," Keller said and tugged his t-shirt sleeve. She started to lead him to the office in the back.

Rodney suddenly shot to his feet, and everyone, including Ronon, reacted. "Um, did … did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

"Just a few scratches. No biggie." John shoved the last of the sandwich in his mouth and waved him off. Rodney started to come around the table. "No!" Everyone flinched at John's tone, and Rodney actually backed up several steps. "Sorry, but I don't know how your new tenant will react to blood now that things have … calmed down."

Rodney lifted his head and sniffed the air. And grimaced. Then he glanced down and noticed he had smeared some drops as he walked through them. He did a funny, foot raised hop backwards. "Oh, crap." His grimace – crooked and so very Rodney – got worse as he shook his now broadened and clawed foot. "Well, _I'm_ still reacting the same."

Everyone heard John's sigh of relief.

Teyla wrapped her arm around Rodney's. He wasn't much taller than her now, but he still dwarfed her tiny frame. "Come help me set the bed and equipment back up."

Rodney looked at her. "Um, okay." He let her lead him back into the room, but not without one more guilty glance towards Sheppard.

_End Note: "I see a bad moon rising. I see trouble on the way...." 'Specially since there may be a delay in getting the next chapter up, 'cuz I really need to do some more Christmas shopping this week. (ducking and running)_


	9. IX: The Bear Necessities

_Author's Note: Hey, only a little late. Still not quite done with the shopping, but hey, at least it's not twenty below like they predicted. I'll take it._

**IX: The Bear Necessities**

Keller directed John to sit on a rolling stool next to the wide counter that formed a giant horseshoe in the fairly large room. Banks of monitors for each room took up much of the space, and a set of shelves filled with supplies ran down its center. She pulled out a sterile blue and white pad and placed it on one of the few open areas on the dark counter top next to him. "Shirt off and Change, please," she said as started gathering the supplies she needed.

"Change change or gown change?"

She glanced at him and saw the smirk. "You know what I mean. Move it, buster."

John chuffed and grabbed the back of his collar with his left hand. "Say, are there any cameras in here?"

"Just the security one in the corner." She flashed her dimples and waved at it. "I think Cadman is on duty tonight."

"Crap." John had worked with the Lieutenant a couple of times. She was a … spitfire, that's for sure, and he could so see her and Keller in cahoots. He Changed as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, and the static in it made his hair stand out crazier than normal. His right forearm was half covered in blood, and when he lifted it to see how bad it was, he hissed faintly as muscles pulled across his ribs. He looked down and saw the beginnings of an impressive wrap around bruise, and his stomach had blood on it from where he was holding his arm. "So, what did that? The bed or the table?" He wiped off the blood with his shirt as best as he could.

"I believe it was when he hacky-sacked you off the bed, and you both hit the wall." She pulled on some gloves and checked his ribs first, watching his face the whole time as she gently palpated his side since she'd learned by now that if you asked him if it hurt, he'd lie. Just like Ronon. Every time he sucked his lips in, she knew she found a bad spot – he was much easier to read than Ronon, that's for sure. "Well, doesn't feel like anything is broken, but you're still going to the infirmary for x rays." John started to open his mouth but she held up a finger. "I mean it. Now, let's see that arm." John put his elbow on the pad and Keller started rinsing it off with a squeeze bottle of distilled water. She wrinkled up her nose. "You're going to need stitches."

John grimaced, too. "Just … butterfly 'em shut and wrap it tight. They'll be fine until later."

Keller blinked at him. "Um, no. Stitches."

"Look." John leaned forward a touch, and since the stool was set pretty high, he was eye level with her. "I plan on being in my true form until the moon sets to keep Rodney, well, company. You can stitch them after this is all over." When Keller just stood there and stared at him, arms crossed and one eyebrow slightly cocked, he spread his hands and gave her a lopsided, reassuring smile. "Hey, trust me."

Keller blinked again. "Now why do I suddenly have the urge to watch 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' right now?"

"As long as you don't have the urge punch me."

Keller sighed because, damn it, he was using the 'eyebrows' on her. She thought she had built up a resistance to them. "All right. This better not be so you can pick up chicks because of cool scars …." Her words trailed off as he just stared at her, all humor gone from his pale green eyes. "Okay, that was lame." She went back to the storage cabinets and gathered up what she needed. During the time he was in the infirmary last fall there was very little of him she hadn't seen, and if anything he had dozens of faded scars just like these all ready as well as some old puckered bullet wounds. She was pretty certain he got the latter in the service. But the others….

After she set her supplies on the counter she checked his arm again. "I don't know, some of these are pretty deep." They were still oozing blood, and she had to wipe it away as she carefully butterflied them closed as tight as she could. He just shrugged at her comment as he watched. "Oka-ay." As she worked she could see some of the other scars – they were old and thin and made her think they just might possibly be defensive wounds. She also knew there were several spider-web thin ones on his shoulders, upper back, and some even on this throat and upper chest, as well as, if she had to guess, puncture marks in the muscle on the back of his neck. Someday she'd get up the courage to ask him what they were all about. Either that, or she'd just have to catch a few shows on Animal Planet about big cat behavior. Actually, that just might be easier in the long run, she decided.

Keller finished up by wrapping his entire forearm in clean white gauze. "Now, be careful with those. If Yogi bounces you around again, those will pop."

"He won't." John grinned sheepishly at her. "Because that was, um, rather embarrassing." When she giggled he drew his lips in and shrugged.

The scratches on his back were superficial and just needed cleaning, and the big tear in his sweat pants was just that. Keller giggled again when she was checking under it to make sure he wasn't hurt and his ears turned red. It was a really long tear.

"Are you done?" John asked as he swiveled his leg away from her. She nodded, and by the time she finished the second nod he had Changed. The white bandage stood out starkly against his fur.

Under the lights in this room Keller could really see his spots and the markings on his face. And she also noticed he had tiny spikes in this form, too – the hair on the top of his head sort of … swirled clockwise. Well, looks like Dr. Biro owes her twenty bucks – turns out his hair _was_ the result of cowlicks and not product. She grinned to herself, then noticed John watching her with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"Last time I saw you smiling like that, I wound up in a black satin banana hammock. In public."

For a moment Keller's grin got wider, and John's eyes got narrower. "You have nothing to worry about."

John chuffed, stood up and grabbed his torn t-shirt, then thought better of it and just dropped it in the garbage. "Yeah, I better go see what Rodney's up to – I'll feel safer that way." Even in his true from, his own wicked little smirk was plain to see. He pulled a blue scrub top in his size from the shelves and put it on. He also grabbed another one for Rodney.

"Why, Sheppard – I get the feeling you don't trust me," Keller said a second later as they left the room together.

"Only near New Years, doc. And I still have a bone to pick with you and Teyla about that." She just smiled innocently at him, and he rolled his eyes.

Lorne and Ronon were standing in front of the window of the quarantine room and watching what was going on inside. Both men were smirking. John paused briefly and glanced past them only to see Rodney sitting up on the bed as Carson took vitals.

They had cut the remains of his t-shirt off and his broad, clawed feet were swinging a foot off the ground.

Ronon looked at John, his eyes crinkled in amusement. "He waddles like Charlie Chaplain when he walks now."

"I do not!" Rodney called out.

John clamped down on his own grin. "Ah, you might want to watch what you say around him from now on. Were hearing? Very good." He followed Keller into the room and joined Teyla by the foot of the bed. She held her hand out – his radio lay in the palm of her hand and it seemed untouched. He still checked his ear even though he saw it sitting there, then picked it up and replaced it.

Rodney's blue eyes were wide and his eyebrows were all scrunched up in concern, and he had one hand/paw up by his chest. He was waggling his fingers and the gesture was so strange looking now even though they'd all seen it hundreds of times. "You really are okay?" he repeated. Claws clicked together like organic castanets.

"Yes, Rodney. I'm fine." He tossed the extra scrub top onto the bed next to Rodney and hoped it was big enough. He was really wide through the shoulders now.

"Just a flesh wound," Keller added. She got a raised eyebrow from Carson and she shrugged it off.

Rodney let out a deep, deep sigh of relief.

"Would you please quit squirming," Carson said as he readjusted a blood pressure cuff around a very thick and hairy arm.

"Oh, come on, Carson. You've taken my blood pressure five times now. Admit it – it's dropped." Rodney's crooked smirk of triumph was strange on his now ursine features. It made him look like he ate the whole pic-a-nic basket, and the family and Ranger Whatisname with it.

Carson took his stethoscope off and draped it around his neck. "I can't believe it. As long as I have known you, you have _never_ had normal blood pressure."

Rodney grinned and practically bounced in place, his feet swinging faster.

"All right. Settle. I want to take some blood, then we're heading up to the infirmary for a scan."

Rodney's face fell. "Um, do I, ah, really need to go to the infirmary?"

"Just for a very short time." Carson got the rubber tourniquet around a hairy bicep and tied it carefully so he wouldn't catch any of the fur. "It's late – I'm sure the hall will be clear, if that's what you're worried about." He was able to find the vein in the crook of Rodney's elbow through the fur and swabbed it. He glanced at his friend briefly and found it amusing that he had his head turned away and his eyes scrunched closed.

Lorne poked his head around the door jamb. "We can make sure the coast is clear, and take the north service elevator. It's only a corridor away from the infirmary." He suddenly tapped his earpiece and answered, then nodded a few times before saying, "Understood. Lorne out. Col. Caldwell and Dr. Weir will be meeting us in the infirmary."

"And nobody else … ow!" The exclamation ended in a deep growl as Rodney glared at Carson and actually bared his teeth. He didn't see John and Teyla tense up and step closer. "Rip a little more fur out, why don't you?" Then he realized Carson had backed up a step, the tourniquet hanging from his hand complete with a few russet furs still stuck to it. His nose twitched as he unconsciously tested the air and caught a sour tang coming from Carson. Neurons fired, the animal part of his brain processed the information, and his eyes got wide as his _human_ brain kicked back into gear and he clamped his mouth shut with an audible clack of his teeth. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He couldn't stand the thought he'd just scared the crap out of one of his best friends. Or, just briefly, that he did have full intentions of _biting_ him….

Carson's eyes were still wide as he swallowed. "It's all right, Rodney. No harm done."

Rodney seemed to just turtle into himself as the guilt stayed. He glanced at John, saw the narrowed eyes, and what little remained of his neck completely disappeared as he hunched lower. John growled softly and Rodney flinched. Then he saw whiskers come forward and the corners of his eyes crinkle, and that made him … relax.

"You're still using your head," John said softly. "Good. I won't have to bite you again."

Rodney's right paw-hand shot up to his ear. He couldn't feel any holes, but still…. "You … you bit me!" He tried snapping the fingers of his free hand, but his claws got in the way. "Carson. Antiseptic. Now!"

John crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes again. "Hey – I had to get your attention somehow. And my hands were full." He heard a very amused giggle in the back of his head, and when he glared at Teyla, her expression was serene. Her eyes were glittering, however. He sneered at her briefly.

The indignant squawk was pure Rodney. "Do you know how many germs are in a human mouth?"

John pouted. "Not human, remember?"

"Not the point!" Now it was Rodney's turn to pout and he continued to rub his ear even though it didn't hurt. "What if I turn into some mutant cat/bear hybrid now? Huh? Did you think of that?"

"That would be really freaky ugly," John muttered churlishly, then went _oof_ as Teyla lightly smacked him in the stomach.

"It does not work that way, Rodney," Teyla said reassuringly. She flashed John a faint scowl, and he just grinned back at her. "Though I do not know what would happen should you bite _him_…." She let the last word hang, and John's grin faded and his eyebrows came down as he thought about that statement.

Rodney snorted when John casually shuffled back half a step.

Keller giggled. "So, would that make you a werewere?" Her finger came up. "Oh, hey – if you bit Elizabeth, then she'd be a werewere-Weir!"

John and Rodney both groaned and rolled their eyes.

"All right, enough before our heads explode," Carson said in the clearly relaxed atmosphere. "On that note – let me send this up and we'll head up ourselves. Sound like a plan?" When everyone nodded he left.

"We'll check the halls," Lorne added and he and Ronon headed out.

Rodney slid off the bed and wobbled a moment as he found his equilibrium with his short legs. "Speaking of plans…." He carefully picked up the scrub top and seemed at odds on how to put in on without shredding it until Teyla stepped forward and assisted. The second his head cleared the almost too small collar he was humming happily again.

All eyes focused on John. "Um…." He glanced at Teyla. "Quite honestly, I was just going to, ah, hang with you while you got used to your new form. But I didn't expect you to be this, well, _coherent_ this soon."

"I believe he is trying to say 'we were going to wing it'," Teyla added with a sweet smile. She hooked her arm in his furry one and patted it. "He thought you would be a mess – but I had faith in you."

"Hey!"

"I had a feeling you would be fine, Dr. McKay. You are an exceptional scientist – it only stands to reason your intelligence would dominate the bear spirit."

Rodney's head wobbled in his embarrassed shake/nod and the corner of his mouth rose. And the skin around his nose turned pink.

John put his hands on his hips, claws partially extended. _Oh, you are such a butt kisser._

_He is still a bit frightened, and you know as well as I that getting him to focus on himself is the best way to distract him._

John drew his lips in and looked at Rodney. He'd been so focused on the bear in him he actually tuned out his empathy, but sure enough…. _Sorry about that._ His radio chirped and he tapped it. "Okay, coast is clear," he said a moment later.

Teyla led Rodney out of the room, but John scooted around them, opened the main door to the hallway, then waved them to stay put until he checked the hall himself. When he turned back around he was met with several amused smirks. "Um, sorry – habit." Teyla rolled her eyes, but as she and Rodney stepped out into the hall she hooked his right arm with hers and pulled him along.

They looked like a freaky prom processional from a Roger Corman film as they walked down the hall.

John glanced around Teyla and watched Rodney take a few steps. He did have a bit of a Chaplinesque waddle with his new shorter legs. Then he turned enough to look at Carson and Keller, and both of them were trying very hard to keep their amusement under control. He faced forward and had to bite down on his lips to keep his own snort silent, then said _ow_ as his fangs pinched flesh. Teyla sent him an exasperated mental sigh.

Rodney suddenly halted. "All right, I know what you're all doing – I can hear the gurgles and strangled snorts. Yes – I waddle when I walk. I can't help it since my legs are only two feet long now. So just go ahead, get it out of your system. I'll wait." He tapped one foot, his claws clicking on the floor.

"They are being children," Teyla said and gently tugged him into motion. "Just ignore them."

Rodney snorted and lifted his nose, but a few steps later he said, "I can still hear you snickering, Keller."

"I can't help it," she replied. "It's so damn … _adorable_."

The growl that escaped from Rodney was long, drawn out, and definitely put upon. "Three nights. I only have to put up with this for three nights," he muttered to himself.

-oOo-

The halls _were_ clear until they got to the infirmary and found Zelenka pacing back and forth, his hair flying as he turned and looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. He froze when he got his first good look at Rodney, his mouth hanging open and his glasses nearly sliding off his nose, and there was a brief moment of silence before he exploded into a litany of Czech.

John had felt the man's anxiety before they even rounded the last corner, and the wave of relief he felt now damn near made his eyes water.

"Rodney! You, you made it!" He finally pushed his glasses up before he lost them. "Pavle has been e-mailing me nonstop since sunset. He has been very worried."

"Um, yeah," Rodney replied. He sniffed, and the shadow in his mind told him that Pavle wasn't the only one who was worried. "I did."

"Výborně! Pavle will be so pleased to hear!" Then he lost some of his enthusiasm and even though his next question was directed at Rodney, he looked at Sheppard as he asked, "Are you going to be all right?"

"He's gonna be fine," John said as he let go of Teyla's arm. He glanced towards Rodney and saw a crooked smirk light up the man's furry features.

"Do you mind if I tell Pavle everything is … good?"

"No, not at all," Rodney replied. He sounded a bit surprised. "Um, make sure he knows I'm not a rat. Okay?"

Zelenka nodded so vigorously he had to push his glasses up again.

John opened the door, and as they stepped into the infirmary Rodney was glad to see only a few staff were on night duty and the beds were empty. _They_ just stood there with their mouths open, too. "What, does _everyone_ have to look like a defective Billy Bass when they see me? Because, seriously, it's starting to piss me off. And if anyone even starts with 'Don't Worry, Be Happy', I'm going to …."

"Jesus Christ!"

Rodney's heart jumped up into his throat at Caldwell's voice and he whirled to face the Colonel, and in the process he about pulled Teyla clean off her feet. He even felt fur rise on the back of his neck and across his shoulders, and the sensation was very odd. It … tickled. But it was a pleasant tickle, and that thought made fur ripple again.

Caldwell's own mouth worked silently a few times and his eyebrows lowered into quite the impressive scowl. "You can … not supposed to… what the…." He put his hands on his hips and looked between Teyla and John. "You said he wouldn't be able to speak." His tone was somewhere between awed and accusatory.

"You honestly think _this_ …." Rodney gestured to his new muzzle and fangs. "… Would stop _me_? Puh-leeze."

"He is an exception to the rule," Teyla replied. She patted Rodney's arm but didn't let go.

"I'll be damned," Caldwell muttered.

Elizabeth had both hands up to her mouth, her green eyes wide. She blinked and lowered her hands. "Rodney?" Her voice was soft, the inquiry awed and slightly breathless.

Rodney did his little head waggle that wasn't quite a shake or a nod. "Hey, Elizabeth."

She gasped, then cautiously stepped forward and reached out to carefully take Rodney's free hand. She cursorily checked the claws then clasped his hand in both of hers. Rodney could still feel the shake in them. "I can still see you in … your new face." She glanced at John and shook her head faintly as if she still couldn't believe the whole thing. "Both of you … this is simply amazing." When Rodney smiled his slightly embarrassed crooked smile, one hand went back to her mouth. "Oh, my God!" Then she laughed briefly, the sound practically girlish, and Rodney blushed around his nose again. "Oh!" What she did next made both Lorne and Ronon reach for their hidden weapons, Caldwell burst out with another startled _Jesus,_ and John and Teyla tense.

She hugged Rodney.

His eyes widened until the whites were showing, and he could tell her fingers were barely meeting on his back.

"I was very worried about you, Rodney," she said before she released him. She glanced at Caldwell. "We both were."

Rodney took in Caldwell's sour expression – and scent – and snorted. Was that a little jealousy he detected? This scent thing was … cool. "Um, right. And it wasn't for the same reasons, I'm willing to wager."

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes bright. "Hmm." She glanced at Caldwell and seemed to take some pleasure in the fact that the man's expression soured even more. "How astute of you, Dr. McKay."

"Well, I _am_ smarter than your average werebear," Rodney said rather smugly. A chorus of groans filled the room. "Oh, come on. You've all been wanting to say that for _days_. I just know it. Especially _you_." He pointed at Lorne. "You're just all disappointed I got to it first." He raised his chin in triumph and rocked back and forth from heel to toe.

"Yeah, that's still the same McKay, all right," Caldwell grumbled. He looked like he was in need of antacids as he ran a hand across his mouth.

Carson was beaming as he pushed past the cluster of people blocking the way into the infirmary proper. "All right, you – a quick scan and I'm done with the poking and prodding for the night."

"Really?" Rodney's eyes were bright.

"I think we can give you a break." Carson pointed at John. "And don't run away – you have a date with the scanner as well."

"Crap," John muttered.

"Do you mind if we come along?" Elizabeth asked Rodney. He shook his head in reply.

The parade back to diagnostics was impressive, and Teyla kept John from ducking out.

-oOo-

"This is incredible!" Rodney's face was lit by the graphics from the large screen attached to the monitor, and if anything it really emphasized how unchanged the planes of his forehead and cheeks, and even his jaw line, were. Now they were just covered in smooth, glossy, russet fur. The display he was so focused on was a side by side of him and John. "My _skeleton_ even changed!" He reached out to touch the plasma screen and damn near punctured it, and Carson quickly tapped it to call up a new overlay and a wave of data. This wasn't the first time it had happened. "My bone and muscle density is nearly as high as yours, Sheppard."

John was hanging back from the rest of the crowd and sitting on one of the rolling stools in the room. "Good for you," he said. He was pouting – turned out he did have a couple cracked ribs and the doctors were making him 'take it easy'. And Teyla was being his watch-elf. Again. He caught a warning glance from her at his tone, so he just hung his head and started drumming his toe claws on the floor. He had _very_ agile toes in his true form. Teyla sighed.

"I wonder – since I can talk, which was completely and totally unexpected but very welcome – do you think I'm as strong as you, too?" He turned to face John.

John chuffed and it sounded rather dismissive and a bit, well, _obscene_.

Rodney cocked his head and stood hipshot. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Snagglepuss." He heard a couple soft snickers and that egged him on. "I know – let's arm wrestle. You and me. Mano-a-ma …. No, that isn't right. Bear versus cat. Ursus-a, um, Felis."

"I'm not arm wrestling you, Rodney." John's nose wrinkled up because his voice cracked. "And jeez, this isn't a football game." When he received a bunch of blank stares, he sighed. "Never mind. It's a Montana thing. Besides, I can't." He lifted his chin and grinned smugly. "Doctor's orders. Supposed to take it easy, remember?"

Rodney immediately turned to Ronon, who was leaning against the wall near the door. Ronon's dreds swayed as he looked at everyone. "Hey, I'm not doing it, either. I learned my lesson."

"What, are you scared the geek is gonna whip you?"

Ronon's eyes narrowed.

Rodney tried a kissy face, but his thin, rubbery bear lips stuck way out and made him look like a very hairy wereduck.

Ronon blinked, and busted out laughing. One hand went up briefly to cover his mouth, and he just shook his head and _guffawed_.

When other people started laughing as well Rodney just deflated, his muzzle red, and carefully scratched at a cheek. "Yeah, won't be doing that again," he mumbled as he twitched in embarrassment. Elizabeth saved what little dignity he had left by clearing her throat. The laughter died down, but everyone, including Caldwell, was still smiling.

"I must say, your mouth is still as 'expressive' as it's always been," Elizabeth said, her voice amused. "And I'm sure there's another way to test your strength that doesn't involve dislocating security personnel's shoulders."

"I still have things set up in the PT room from …." Carson glanced at John briefly. "The other day. Want to head there next, Rodney?"

"You're, um, not going to make me run on the treadmill with a, a, a weird contraption strapped to my head, are you?"

"No." Carson waited for Rodney to slump with relief before he added, "Not yet, anyway."

Rodney's head snapped up, then he saw Carson grinning and frowned. "Not funny."

The slowly growing parade tromped back through the infirmary, Carson and Rodney leading the way, and into the small physical therapy lab. Rodney immediately went for the free weights. "Ooo, were these set for you, Sheppard?" he asked as he reached for a barbell that looked like it had every single weight it could possibly hold on it.

"Actually, no," John said as he plopped down on a stack of exercise mats. He waited until Rodney tried to lift the thing – the physicist got it off the ground but could not even begin to do a curl with it. "That was Teyla, showing off." He chuffed at the wide eyed, open mouth expression on Rodney's face, and when he glanced up at Teyla, she had the closest to an embarrassed expression on her face he had yet seen. Then she saw him looking at her and went all stony watch-elf again.

Carson was flitting nervously around Rodney. "Ah, you might want to start gradually there, Rodney. Don't want to, ah, hurt yourself now, do you?"

Rodney dropped the barbell a few inches from the floor. "Um, good point."

They all lost track of time watching Rodney bounce around from station to station as he tested out his new vargyr strength. Ronon and Lorne even got swept up in the whole thing and immediately became his official spotters. Teyla tactfully kept out of it – as she said internally to John shortly after the barbell incident, _It would be wrong for me to make them feel … inadequate._ She didn't quite hide the amused mental snort afterwards, and Elizabeth, who had taken up a seat next to them on the mats, shot them both a questioning glance when John suddenly turned and gave Teyla a raspberry.

Caldwell was even amused – he actually cracked a grin. It disappeared, however, the second he saw Elizabeth grinning up at him, and he was the cranky, serious Head of Security once again.

John and Teyla exchanged mental _ooo's_ at what their empathy picked up.

Keller had her camera and was taking pictures, of course. Rodney didn't seem to mind – he was so revved with the fact that he could now leg press his sister's Prius (which was a pure estimate because they didn't have enough free weights in the PT lab to completely represent that amount of weight and they were going to have to commandeer some of the equipment in the main gym sometime to get a really, truly accurate reading) that he actually asked for copies.

It was getting close to three a.m. and everyone, including Rodney, was breaking into a wide yawn every so often. John had slid off the mats and was sitting on the floor, his back against the stack, his knees up and head back, and was watching with half slit eyes. Elizabeth still sat up above him, one leg tucked under, and kept rubbing her eyes. Caldwell leaned against the wall and still seemed wide awake, until he hid a yawn behind a hand.

Teyla was the only one unfazed and still wide awake, but even the Sidhe weren't immune to contagious yawns.

Rodney stood in the center of the room at the moment, his hand/paw on his still slightly paunchy stomach, and was frowning thoughtfully.

"What is it, Rodney," Carson asked. He was sitting on a weight bench and had one arm draped over the bar that sat in the uprights.

"I don't think this cured my hypoglycemia – I'm feeling light headed."

"Let me go grab a meter and we can test your glucose," Carson replied. He stood and stretched. "I have some Powerbars, too. Back in a spiff." He was yawning and scratching at his stubble as he shuffled towards the door in a definitely un-spiffy gait.

"Hey, don't strain yourself there," Rodney called after him. Then he shuffled over to the vacated weight bench and sat. "Yeah, definitely woozy." When he yawned, his long tongue flopped out and Keller snapped a picture. Rodney shut his mouth with a snap and almost caught his tongue. "Would you quit that?"

"But it's so _cute_." Keller grinned – she had at least a dozen shots now of him in various stages of yawn during the course of the last half hour.

Rodney grumbled, and it was pure grumpy bear. It just made Keller giggle.

Carson returned with a test kit, a bottle of water, and two Power bars. Rodney was so focused on the first bar that he didn't even flinch when Carson poked a finger pad and squeezed up a drop of blood. A few seconds later…. "Yup, you're a hypoglycemic werebear."

"Crap," Rodney said around a mouthful.

Carson sighed and glanced around. John looked like he was half asleep, Elizabeth had hellacious circles under her eyes, and everyone else except Teyla just seemed to droop. "I believe this is an excellent time to call it a night."

"Here here," Caldwell muttered and didn't bother to hide his next yawn. "You two, turn in." He pointed to Ronon and Lorne. "You have duty again tomorrow night. I'm out of here."

"Yes, sir," Lorne replied.

"And I am officially giving everyone permission to sleep in tomorrow … ah, this morning," Elizabeth added as she got up. "You, too, Colonel."

"Yes, ma'am." Caldwell was tired enough he didn't hide the faintly affectionate smile he gave her. And she didn't quite disguise hers in reply. They, along with Lorne, shuffled off a moment later. Ronon stuck around long enough to wait for Keller, then they, too, left after a _g'night_.

Carson waited for Rodney to finish his water. "So, do you want to go back to quarantine, or sleep up here in the infirmary."

"Um, can't I just go to my own quarters?" Rodney's blue eyes were round, and he was definitely working a puppy dog look. "I'm doing great – you've all said so."

"Yeah, but you do have to change back," John drawled out lazily. "Isn't going to be as bad as the first Change, but, well, you get the idea."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that." Rodney fidgeted a bit. At least his feet touched the floor while he was sitting on the weight bench. "Um, I'll sleep up here. It doesn't feel as … dungeony as the quarantine rooms."

"All right. I'll set off a private section for both of you."

Rodney spluttered, and John's eyes came fully open. "Hey, I told you I was gonna stick close and help you through this." What John didn't add was he still didn't trust the bear in Rodney yet to not try something while the man was asleep.

"Both of us," Teyla replied. She was sitting cross-legged on the mats above John.

Rodney just looked at them both, his throat tight and his eyes hot. He blamed it on exhaustion. "Um, thanks." The words came out rough, and he blamed that on his new bearishness.

"That's settled," Carson said. "Let's get you set up."

John pushed himself to his feet with a soft hiss – things were getting sore, and he had a feeling he'd be seeing lots of bruises when he showered later – and when he finally straightened up he saw Rodney looking at him in concern. John just chuffed and waved like it was nothing.

As they were traipsing towards the door, Teyla once again between John and Rodney, her arms hooked in theirs, she said, "I won't require a bed, Doctor. Just a chair will suffice." She glanced up at John. _Get some rest – I will keep an eye on him and wake you if anything happens._

_Thanks._ John yawned.

"Hey, how come Keller never took pictures of you yawning? Huh? Your tongue is just as long and floppy as mine now."

"Because you do look a lot cuter when you do it, Rodney," Carson said. "I think it's the nose. He just looks like, well, a big ol' cat that's just woken up after eating an entire wildebeest."

John about choked. "I do not." He glanced down at Teyla. "Do I?"

Teyla frowned faintly and nodded. "It is the way you peel your lips away from your fangs. It's very … predatory."

"Exactly!" Carson said.

"Oh." John pouted. "So, you're saying I'm not cute?"

Teyla sighed and rolled her eyes, and both Carson and Rodney snorted.

John was still pouting when he faceplanted on the nearest bed a few minutes later, but only _after_ Rodney had done the same thing on the next bed over and started snoring.

_End Note: The Montana thing? Google "The Brawl of the Wild". It's the Montana State vs University of Montana football game. Cats vs Griz. GO GRIZ!! Hey - I'm an alumn, I hafta go with the Griz. ;)_


	10. X: Embracing the Inner Yogi

_Author's Note: Yay, the holiday crazies are over. Woo hoo! I have another chapter done! Double woo hoo! _

**X: Embracing the Inner Yogi**

Rodney wasn't used to waking up slowly by degrees. If anything, he was used to waking up with something screaming in his ear – his alarm clock, emergency alarms promising a meltdown in one of the labs, Zelenka or Grodin shouting over the radio about eminent meltdowns…. So, for the moment, he just relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of drifting slowly awake. It was a lot like floating in a warm swimming pool – he felt weightless and completely comfortable and quite honestly he didn't want the sensation to end. But then the little aches and pains started to wake up as well, and actually, those weren't that bad. His muscles were stiff and sore like he'd been, God forbid, _exercising_, and he rolled over onto his back and stretched his arms out to the side, then in front of him.

Something ripped down his back.

Rodney's eyes shot open and the first thing he registered was his nose. It was still brown and bearish. As he was waiting for the pain of whatever tore in his back to register, the second thing he noticed was weak sunlight coming in through the windows on the far end of the infirmary. He sat up abruptly and stared down and his still furry arms and clawed hands, his stubby legs…. Oh hell no, this was _so_ not right….

A soft snort to his left distracted him briefly from his impending panic attack. His head whipped that way and he saw Sheppard sprawled on the next bed. His head was at the foot, cheek pressed to the bed and whiskers limp. His right arm dangled limply over the side, and his claws were partially extended from total boneless relaxation that only a cat seems capable of. The white bandage on that arm had several dark spots, and Rodney flinched guiltily.

A quick glance showed no one else in the infirmary at the moment, so he leaned forward a little and hissed, "Sheppard. Sheppard! Are you awake?" He saw the dangling hand twitch, but that was all. "Sheppard!" he said a little louder, then threw a pillow at him.

It bounced off John's head and dropped to the floor, and one green eye cracked open. "Go back to sleep, Ro'ney," he mumbled into the mattress.

"I'm still a, a, a, a _bear_!"

John rubbed his face against the mattress and groaned. "The moon hasn't set." He remained faceplanted and his words were barely understandable. Then he fumbled blindly with his dangling arm, snagged the pillow, and put it over his head.

"And when is that?" Rodney's voice rose almost an entire octave.

The pillow rose as John lifted his head and checked his watch. "An hour and … twelve minutes." Then he flipped the pillow back at Rodney. "So, chill."

Rodney caught it before it wrapped around his head, and he grinned at how fast he had moved to do it. He flung it back. Hard. The good, solid _whumpf_ it made as it wrapped around Sheppard's head and stayed made him grin even broader.

John lifted his arm and flipped Rodney off.

"I cannot leave you two alone for five minutes."

Rodney started guiltily at Teyla's tone, and he turtled his now pretty much non-existent neck at the incredibly amused expression on her face as she came back from the staff lounge, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

Teyla patted his foot as she walked between the beds. Then she pushed John's legs to the side and settled cross-legged at the head of the bed he was sprawled across. He grumbled from underneath the pillow and shifted to give her more room, but not after he nudged her with one foot. She just lightly smacked him on the thigh and smiled at Rodney. "How are you feeling this morning, Rodney?"

Rodney blinked at the utter casualness of that little scene and wondered if something was going on between them…. Teyla narrowed her eyes at him. "Um, pretty good, actually," he quickly spat out. He stretched his arms again to hide his embarrassment and felt the back of his scrub top flap loosely. Ah, _that_ was what ripped. "A little sore, but not bad." His stomach growled. "And hungry. Very hungry."

There came a muffled snort and an equally muffled, "S'not surprising." Shortly followed by a muffled _hey_ as Teyla flicked one of his toes.

"I am sure we can have some breakfast sent up for you." She focused past Rodney and nodded. "Right, Carson?"

Carson was just leaving the staff lounge, too, and he had two mugs with him. Rodney's super sensitive smell caught coffee – one definitely with sugar – as the groggy Scot got closer. "All ready ordered," Carson said as he handed the black coffee to Rodney. "Should be here shortly."

Rodney wasn't aware he was growling softly as he reached for the mug until Carson flinched and slopped some over the rim. He let out a short startled roar as hot coffee hit the sensitive pads of his hands and pulled back. Something in his head reacted as well, and he growled even deeper and bared his teeth. But unlike down in the quarantine rooms, this time he leaned forward and snapped at Carson.

"_McKay!_"

The _tone_ made Rodney snap his head toward Sheppard, and he could feel hair bristling down his back as he showed teeth and growled again. John had pushed himself up onto his hands, and his legs were under him and tensed and ready to launch him at any second. He had his teeth bared as well, whiskers flattened, and his eyes were dilated and intent.

"_Stand. Down_."

John delivered each word in a growl that sent shivers clean through Rodney and he felt the shadow in his brain _cringe_. That let his own thoughts snap back online, and he found he was cringing back into his remaining pillows as well, paws up in a defensive posture. It wasn't until the first whimper escaped him that he realized he was holding his chin up to expose his throat, too. That freaked him out, and he started hyperventilating.

"Oh, crap." Carson quickly sat the mugs down and held his hands up. "Sorry, Rodney." He stood still, and it was clear from his expression that he was afraid to approach.

Teyla slid off the bed in a fluid, almost dancer-like movement and was by Rodney's side. She gently took one of his hands in hers and held it tight. "Shhh. Focus on my touch, Rodney." Rodney's wide blue eyes met her copper ones as he gulped for air. "That's it, focus. _You_ are strong. _You_ are in control. Now, breathe." She joined him in his first deep, shaky breath. "Yes. That's it."

John could feel all the fur from the crest of his head to the small of his back standing on end. He swore he could damn near _see_ the shadow of the bear spirit over Rodney, and he did not relax until Teyla had the physicist calm and breathing normally again. He sank back down onto his stomach but remained propped up on his elbows. He lowered his head and yawned as the surge of adrenaline backed off, and decided _that_ little scare was the best cure for morning wood than anything…. He caught an amused snort in the back of his mind and his head snapped up in time to catch the edge of Teyla's smirk as she let go of Rodney's hand. He lowered his head again and was very glad his blushing didn't show up as clearly as Rodney's did in his new bear form. She sat down on the bed again, and he resisted the urge to look at her because he just knew that little smirk was back in place.

Rodney didn't notice any of the brief exchange – he was giving Carson the equivalent of puppy-dog, no, _bear-cub_ eyes and apologizing profusely. Carson finally had to shush him by carefully handing over the mug of coffee. "It's all right, Rodney." He held the mug out, handle first, in a peace offering.

Rodney took it in shaking paws and held it as if it would shatter like a thousand year old egg shell. Only then did he glance at Sheppard and read the man's mild discomfort. He shrank down into himself. "Sorry."

John replied with slightly narrowed eyes and a gentle tap on his temple with one sheathed claw.

"Right. Right. Use my head. Keep thinking. You would think that I, of all people, could do that without any effort whatsoever." He shrank down even more and slurped noisily at his coffee and winced. It was hard to drink politely with rubbery bear lips, unless it was a bottle – that was one of the odd little things he learned about his new body last night. Then his nose started twitching and he caught the smell of breakfast before it even came into the room.

John picked it up a moment later and turned to see Keller wheeling a cart in with several covered trays. And she was grinning … perkily. Lorne and Ronon were with her, and everyone looked disgustingly awake. But there was a carafe of coffee on the thing – for that he'd forgive Teyla and Carson for not bringing _him_ a cup. He caught another amused giggle and sent a mental pout at Teyla.

Another low growl sounded behind him and whipped back around, but this time it was only Rodney's stomach. He saw Rodney had frozen and was staring at him with huge eyes over his coffee mug, so he very consciously relaxed, then chuffed in amusement a second later. That made Rodney snort and relax himself.

Then breakfast arrived, and it was agreed by unspoken consensus that Rodney got his food first.

-oOo-

A little over an hour later Rodney was beginning to regret having eaten. His gut was churning from nerves and he wondered how in the hell he was going to manage the bathroom if he did a repeat of what happened in Sheppard's quarters. How, for Pete's sake, was he going to, well, _wipe_ with two inch claws without causing serious damage? Was he going to have just, just sit there until he changed back and it was going to be easier with normal hands? Or, heaven forbid, have someone help? And even though he hadn't looked, he just knew he was incredibly furry now, well, _there_, and that presented logistics that were just too nasty to contemplate at the moment. He crossed his arms and chewed on his thumb claw until he saw Carson watching him and frowning in worry.

"You're fidgeting like a three-year-old," Carson said. "Do you want something to, ah, help?"

Rodney shook his head – they discussed it when Carson took his blood pressure a few minutes before, which was only slightly elevated, and he was adamant that he could go through this without any drug induced help. Especially since Sheppard reassured him it wouldn't be anywhere near as bad as before. He cast a furtive glance at Teyla – she and Sheppard were sitting side by side on the bed, she cross-legged and him with his knees drawn up and his toes sort of draped over the edge – and received a warm smile in return.

John was preoccupied with the bandage on his right arm. He split the tape with one claw and started unwinding it, and Keller let out a strangled exclamation. "Oh, hey – stop that," she finally managed to get out as she stomped over to him. He just ignored her and started unwrapping the gauze with enthusiasm.

For a moment Rodney got distracted as Sheppard did his best impression of a big old tomcat shredding its owner's scarf. John glanced up briefly past his eyebrows at him, and the mischievous smirk he caught made him snort. Then Keller blocked his view.

John turned away from her and she put her hands on her hips. "Now look here, buster." She tried to look stern, but she failed as he stuck his bottom lip out and got the last of the bandage off. "All right, fine." She held a hand out. "At least let me see." He held his arm out with a smug feline grin. A few of the butterfly closures were still attached to crusted fur, but the four scabbed over gashes now looked about five days old. "Holy crap!"

Ronon and Lorne both broke out laughing because she said it just like Carson, while Carson crossed his arms and frowned. Rodney even snorted and for a moment forgot how surreal the last twelve hours had been.

"Okay, stupid question – how come you didn't heal this fast last Fall?" she asked as she carefully picked closures off his fur.

"Well, probably because last Fall I had injuries a lot worse than a few superficial scratches." _And I hadn't shifted in close to twenty years, so my body kind of forgot it was vargyr…._ He caught a surprised exclamation in his mind from Teyla and tried not to glance that way. He scratched carefully at the crusted fur – yeah, that was going to pull like a mother when he shifted back to human.

John's watch alarm went off, then about four seconds later Carson's did as well. When they shut them down, Rodney let out a shaky breath. "Let me guess – two minute warning?" His gut did a slow roll.

"More like ten minute warning," Carson replied. "Which should give us plenty of time to go back downstairs if you want. Up to you."

Rodney carefully sat his empty coffee mug on the rolling table with his empty breakfast dishes. Not taking his eyes off of his paw hands wrapped around his tiny ceramic life preserver he said, "Are you positive it won't hurt as bad as before?"

John knew the question was directed at him. "I'm sure. There will be some discomfort…."

"Okay, I've been around enough doctors to know that if they use the term 'discomfort', it's going to hurt like hell and then some." Wide blue eyes focused on Sheppard's green ones. "It's going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Yeah. But you're not going to feel like you've been ripped apart and slapped back together again."

"Hmmm. Still not convinced." Rodney looked at Carson. "I think I'd like to stay here. People are … up now." Quite honestly, the thought of walking through the halls right now scared the crap out of him. He couldn't handle it if someone saw him and _freaked_.

Carson nodded. "John, could you pull the curtain there behind you?" John rolled backwards off the bed and pulled the privacy curtain out enough to block the view of anyone peeking into the infirmary. Just before he got it in place, he saw Caldwell step in and head their way. Carson pulled the curtain on the other side, and when he saw the Colonel he started faintly. "Colonel, is there a … problem?"

Caldwell shook his head. "No, none at all." He looked at Rodney. "I just stopped by to see how you were doing, Dr. McKay."

_And be nosey,_ Rodney thought, because seriously, his timing was just too coincidental, but instead replied, "I doing good." He swallowed. The new head of security made him nervous. Not nervous in a oh-God-we're-all-going-to-be-murdered-in-our-sleep kind of way that Kolya made him nervous. No, this was more of a – he might as well use the term since apparently it was going to be a part of his life from now on – _alpha_ kind of thing. The man screamed commander, that's for sure. And he didn't need to use his new animal senses to feel the tension between him and Sheppard. "Let me guess – truth be told, you came for the show. Right?"

Caldwell crossed his arms and studied Rodney for a moment before answering. "As a matter of fact, yes."

"Huh." So, he was being honest…. Rodney lifted his chin. "Well, I think you might be in for some disappointment. I don't think I'll be hackey-sacking Snagglepuss off of anything this time."

John chuffed disgustedly as he hopped back up onto the bed next to Teyla and pulled his feet up again. "You better not, Yogi."

"Though I wish I could remember that little bit. I bet it was hi-larious." Long claws waggled as he flashed a smug grin at Sheppard.

Lorne rocked on his heels. "I'm pretty sure we can arrange a viewing from the security feed for you, doc." He looked to Caldwell for permission, and the Colonel nodded. "I'll burn you a copy."

"Cool." Rodney took in a deep breath and let it out in a big heavy sigh. He was starting to get used to the scent thing – he could tell things were tense, but not overly so, and that made him relax a little more. But then he felt an odd little twinge in the back of his head, followed shortly by tingling all over his skin. It wasn't uncomfortable, per se, but it sure tickled. He carefully scratched at his arms – didn't want to rip his skin open like he did to, oh hell, Sheppard's. He looked at the man, and saw he had perked up. "Um, hey – I think it's starting."

Caldwell shifted a casual half step back.

John lowered his feet and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Itch?"

"Tickle."

John drew his lips in and nodded. "I only notice that if I _think_ about it."

The said tickle was spreading, and Rodney clamped his hands down under arms, just the way Sheppard usually crossed his. "In other words, I should get used to it, huh?" He got another nod. "So, um, how do _you_, ah…." One hand came out briefly to make a quick circular _c'mon_ motion before getting trapped again. "…Change back?"

John frowned and cocked his head. He seemed completely unaware that all the attention in the room was focused on him at the moment. "You know, I've never really thought about it. I just…." Now his hands came up as he fished for words. "I sort of … just … 'will' it to happen? Um…." His nose wrinkled a moment before he seemed to light up. "Okay, it's kind of like this – I think of my true vargyr self as my 'inner jaguar'. When I want to Change, it's like I open up a, a door, here…." John tapped the center of his chest. "And let it out. The body just does the rest. Works in the opposite direction, too." He Changed, the process maybe taking two seconds at the most, then yelped and started rubbing his right forearm. Flakes and pieces of dried blood rained to the floor, and he shrugged guiltily at the glares he was getting from Carson and Keller.

"That … doesn't really help," Rodney said.

John shrugged. "Sorry, that's the best I can do."

Teyla gently cleared her throat. "Allow me." John raised an eyebrow at her, and she raised one right back. "Your people aren't the only ones able to change their form at will – the Fae have been masters of shape-shifting for millennia."

"Yeah, _charmed_," John said rather dismissively.

Rodney's own eyes lit up. "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. You can shape-shift?"

"No, I cannot," Teyla replied. "It would require extensive training, and alas, I do not have the aptitude for that particular form of magic."

"Magic?" Rodney's exclamation was echoed by several others.

John snorted and Teyla actually flashed him an irritated scowl. "Yes, Rodney – magic. As Halling once explained it to me, shape-shifting is actually a form of possession. The one who wishes to change actually allows a spirit, or small essence, of the animal they wish to become into their own aura, and then mold their aura, and their body, to that form with a spell. For the cursed, that spirit is forced onto the victim like a contagion, and the full moon releases it."

Rodney blinked as his mind churned over two words in an endless loop – possession, and contagion – while completely and totally ignoring that magic thing. Both, in their own way were treatable. One through drugs, the other through an exorcist. The first one, doable, the second one…. That would require some research, but this was Atlantis, for crap's sake. They had access to every digital database known to mankind, and some extras the rest of the planet didn't even know about. Hell, Zelenka probably….

The tickling became a burn, and Rodney's internal dialogue came to an abrupt halt as a wave of cramps hit his belly. He doubled over and for a second thought he was going to lose his breakfast all over his legs. But it backed off, and he let out a quiet little, "Ow?" And Teyla was right there, a hand on his back. He scrunched his eyes shut and kept his arms wrapped around his middle as waves of lesser cramps started, well, _everywhere_. It felt like his muscles were fluttering under his skin, skin that had been hit with a band sander and mercurochrome, and the only thing that was keeping him from screaming was Teyla's cool touch on his back. He started rocking back and forth and did not care at all that he was whimpering. There was a touch on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes just long enough to see it was Carson.

"Hang in there, McKay – it's about thirty seconds to moon set," John said as he moved around to the foot of Rodney's bed. He leaned down so he could see Rodney's face. "You can do it."

Rodney was huffing and puffing like a pregnant woman twenty hours into labor, but he did manage to get out between pants, "Have I … ever told you … how much I hate … Adam Sandler movies?"

John chuffed. "What, you don't like 'Happy Gilmore'?"

Rodney growled. "The only thing … believable … in that … was Bob Barker … kicking his ass." The last word ended with a drawn out hiss and a full body cramp that had Rodney actually touching his nose to a knee, his skin exploding into flame – at least that's what it _felt_ like – then … nothing.

He passed out.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he opened his eyes, but when he did, he was drenched in sweat and shivering a little, and floating from an endorphin high that left him feeling like he was floating above the bed again. At least this time he got to enjoy it without pain slapping him back down. He blinked up at all the concerned faces looking down at him. Hell, even Caldwell was frowning in concern instead of just frowning. "Wha'?"

"You fainted, Rodney," Carson said as he wrapped a cuff around a pink skinned human arm.

"I did not." He was watching Carson wrap the blood pressure cuff around his pink skinned human arm. He had to reach out and touch his own arm to reassure himself he wasn't hallucinating.

"All right, then – you blacked out from shape-shifting stress, for about a minute," Keller added from the other side of the bed. She had Sheila in hand, and a moment later in Rodney's ear. "Slightly elevated. We'll check again later once you've had the chance to get reacquainted with yourself." Ronon snorted, and got a scowl from her. "And you can get your mind out of the gutter."

Ronon just raised his hands and shook his head.

Actually, Rodney was thinking along those lines – he really needed to use the restroom. But Carson grunted at the BP reading and he snapped his head that way. "What?" It came out a bit panicked.

"Slightly elevated as well," Carson said as he unfastened the cuff with a quick burr of Velcro. "But understandable considering your body just basically remade itself." He draped his stethoscope around his neck. "We'll check that again as well. I just want to get another blood sample…."

"Haven't you taken enough, Vlad?"

"I've only taken one before your change, one while you were changed, and now one more since you've changed back." Carson blinked, then grinned. "Bloidy hell, I haven't used the word 'change' that many times since my wee niece had triplets last year."

"Well, I'm glad you're amused at your own word play, but the one fanged vampire has to wait. I need the, um, to use the …."

"Little bear's room?" Lorne supplied.

Rodney sneered at him as he sat up. "Don't you have someplace you have to be?"

Caldwell was smirking. "He is right – you two are officially on the clock."

"Yes, Sir," Lorne replied. He didn't look the least bit chastised.

"See ya at lunch, McKay," Ronon said as he and Lorne left. Caldwell followed.

Rodney swung his legs around, and when he stood a wave a dizziness about made him sit again. Carson caught his elbow. "Thanks," Rodney muttered then was hightailing it to the bathroom.

He took his time, too, because he wanted to make sure everything came back as it should.

When he came back out Carson was waiting for him, and had another scrub top for him to change into. Rodney quickly peeled off the torn oversized one – it hung on him like a hospital Johnny because just the neck band was still intact – and slipped into the dry one. He held up the other. "Wow, I can't believe I did that." His eyes were bright, and his mouth quirked into a smug little grin.

"That is impressive," Carson replied as he took it from his friend, wadded it up, and threw it in the nearest garbage can. "And I'm going to be honest with you – you scared the utter shite out of me this morning." When Rodney's eyes got huge, and it looked like he was on the verge of just crumpling from guilt, Carson clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave him a shake. "But I know this is only the first change. It will get better as you gain more control."

"But what if I don't, Carson? What if this, this thing does take over?"

Carson turned to look Rodney right in the eyes. "I could still see you in your eyes, Rodney. I don't know how to explain it, but when you snapped at me, I could honestly tell it _wasn't_ you." Then he glanced towards the end of the room and where John, Teyla, and Jenn were waiting for them. "And I think Sheppard is going to make bloidy damn sure that bear in you behaves."

Rodney glanced that way as well. "The thing is scared of him, that's for sure."

"Are you?"

Rodney frowned. And thought. "No. No, not really." He was used to thinking in equations, not emotions, so it took a moment to put words to the ideas that were bouncing around in his head. "It isn't a, a fear thing, either, though there is some of that. It's more like a … respect? Um, respect born out of the innate knowledge that he'd kick my ass into the next century if I didn't, ah, show some respect?" He growled in frustration. "It's an alpha thing. I think. I don't know." And that really pissed him off. He was the most brilliant man on the planet, and he couldn't even begin to explain what the hell was going on.

"Maybe you should talk to one of the wildlife biologists."

"I might have to." They started shuffling towards the end of the infirmary. "Or start watching Animal Planet."

-oOo-

After the final blood draw, and blood pressure reading (normal), and temperature (still a little elevated, take two Tylenol and check back after lunch), Rodney was released from the infirmary. John and Teyla escorted him back to his own quarters, and everyone was trying hard to contain grins. Rodney stopped outside his door and faced them. "I'm going to go down to my lab after I shower and change. And can focus again."

"Would you like company?" Teyla asked.

"No, no." Rodney's smile threatened to split his cheeks. "I'm … great!"

John chuffed and shook his head, his own grin pretty happy as well. "We'll come get you for lunch."

"Okay." Rodney disappeared into his quarters, humming happily and damn near bouncing.

John and Teyla looked at each other, and John let out an exaggerated sniff. "Our boy's all growed up."

Teyla giggled as they turned and headed for the elevators. "I am very proud of him."

John chuffed. "Yeah, it went a whole hell of a lot better than I expected." He stuck his hands in the pockets of his poor torn sweats. Damn, and it was one of his really comfy pairs, too. "He's certainly a lot tougher than he looks." They arrived at the elevators and he hit the down button.

"The bear spirit was incredibly strong," Teyla said. "I was worried there at first. But he is handling it very well, I think."

"Yeah." The light above the door next to them lit and they stepped into that car. John hit the button for their floor and leaned against the side wall. "It seems to be listening to him, too. I think you were right about his genius thing." He shook his head and grinned. "Holy shit. He can talk!"

"That was a very surprising development, indeed." The door opened and they stepped out onto their floor, but stayed in the small foyer. "You did very well, also, John."

John rubbed his neck and glanced at her from underneath his eyelashes. "I didn't do anything…."

"Yes, you did. If you had not corralled the bear spirit before the Change, I believe things would have turned out differently. Tragically."

John put his hand back into his pocket and could feel his ears burn. "All I did was just do an … alpha thing I've seen others do in the past." He shrugged. "No biggee. Yell, throw your weight around, pheromones – just vargyr dominance crap."

Teyla put a hand on John's forearm. "It was much more than that, and you know it." Before she could say more someone rounded the corner and she stiffened a fraction. "We'll talk more later, after lunch perhaps?"

John's eyebrows quirked faintly at the sudden shutdown he felt from her. "Um, sure. Later," he said to her back as she turned to go to her own quarters. Then a wave of mint and sunflowers and melon shampoo washed over him from behind. He grinned – he knew who that was. He turned and saw Carlita Espinoza standing just down the hall. "Hey."

"Hey," Carly replied. "I, ah, didn't interrupt something, did I?" She leaned a little to see past John. Teyla had already rounded the corner.

"Um, no." John ambled over to her. "So, what's up?" She smiled at him, and he felt himself smile goofily back – her dimples were fantastic.

"I was just seeing if you were back yet." Her smile faded. "How is Dr. McKay?"

"He's fine. Came through without a hitch." He pulled his right hand back out of his pocket and make a little smooth sailing motion. "Flying colors. And he was actually cheerful when we left him at his … door." He noticed Carly was staring at his arm in mild horror. "Things got a little rambunctious, but it's good." Then she was staring at the long rip in his sweats, and the corner of her mouth rose. His ears started to get warm again.

"Ah, I … see." She looked at his arm again and shook her head.

"It's just a flesh wound. Really."

Carly drew her lips in and sighed. "You need to work on that accent." Then she tapped him on the bicep. "Speaking of which, when are you going to come watch 'The Holy Grail' with me?" She gave him a little pout and looked up through her thick eyelashes at him.

"Oh, crap, I forgot about that." They had been discussing Monty Python one morning at breakfast, and how he hadn't seen that particular movie since college. He offered her a faint smile. "How about after the full moon?" He quickly went over his schedule in his head. "Um, next Wednesday?"

Dimples flashed again. "It's a date. You bring the beer, I'll supply the popcorn."

Something inside of John did a little flip-flop – he was pretty sure his inner jaguar just rolled over and showed its belly. "Cool." He smiled and saw Carly blush faintly. It was very … cute on her, he had to admit.

"I have to get back to the lab," she said. "If Dr. McKay is back to normal…." She shrugged. "No rest for us underlings, I'm afraid." She suddenly rose up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on a stubbly cheek. "I'm glad you're all right." Then she dashed for the stairwell, her cheeks crimson.

John just stood there for a moment, his mouth slightly open. He could tell from her scent that lingered that she was more than just embarrassed. It brought the goofy grin back as he headed for his quarters. The second his door opened, however, his grin disappeared when another smell hit him. He was going to have to get that spot steamer before his shower after all.

-oOo-

Rodney was more than ready for lunch when just Teyla showed up to get him. "Um, where's Sheppard?"

"He was returning a steamer to janitorial," she replied. "He will meet us in the atrium."

"Oh." He felt a little wave of guilt which was compounded by the faint odor of carpet cleaner he could smell on her. There was something else as well, but he couldn't place it. Then he swabbed a little lip balm under his nose and lost it completely. He wasn't about to take any chances with bad smells – he found that he was even more sensitive now. "Okay."

They did meet him outside the cafeteria, and for a second Rodney could feel a little tension between them. Actually, mostly from Teyla, and it confused the hell out of him because she had her normal enigmatic smile in place. Hell, most women confused the crap out of him, and apparently the Sidhe weren't any different. But something was off between them, that he damn well knew.

Zelenka was already at their regular table, looking through a newspaper when they walked up. He quickly folded it up and set it aside as Teyla sat across from him. She smiled at him, and he ducked his head almost shyly. Rodney looked strangely at him as he sat down next to him. This was the guy that scored with Dr. Hasloo, what, not quite three weeks ago? What the hell? Zelenka saw him staring at him, and he just stuck his lips out faintly and shrugged. "Pavle sends his best wishes and is glad you are doing well. And he said that if you have any questions that you can call him, no matter what time of day. I will forward his number to you."

"Um, okay." Rodney actually was touched by that. And he was seriously considering the offer, even though he did have Sheppard to talk to. Another set of eyes was always helpful. Not that he'd ever admit he'd want a second opinion. He glanced past Sheppard and saw Carson, Lorne, Keller, and Ronon entering. Carson nodded at him, and Rodney returned it as he unrolled his silverware. Correction, stainless steel ware. He suddenly wondered what would really happen if he did touch real silverware. Break out in hives? Twitch and foam at the mouth? Would an epipen actually help? Naw, that was too morbid to contemplate right now. First, food. He couldn't believe how damn hungry he was, and he had a pretty sizeable breakfast just a few hours before.

The rest of the gang joined, and soon it was a typical lunch hour full of laughter and smart-ass comments. Everyone seemed particularly relaxed, no one more so than Rodney. He didn't realize how much he had missed this, this camaraderie while he was sequestered in his lab. The lip balm trick really helped, too. Carson was sitting next to him, and at one point he caught his friend just beaming at him. He grinned back because damn, he just felt _good_.

Everyone was pretty much done eating and Rodney noticed Sheppard hadn't touched the piece of chocolate cake he'd snagged for dessert. "Ooo, are you going to eat that?" he asked and started reaching for it before he even finished the sentence. John narrowed his eyes, and the low, incredibly deep growl that rumbled up out of him brought dead silence to the table. Rodney froze, sniffed, his brain went into overdrive, told him that it _wasn't_ a threat, just _sounded_ that way, and John was actually in a, well, playful mood. All of that in the space of a blink, so Rodney grabbed Zelenka's folded paper, partially stood, and whapped him soundly on top of his cowlicks. "Bad kitty," he said and sat back down.

Now all motion stopped at the table, too, except for John – he did an odd little head shake and blinked at Rodney. The stillness was eerie, and for a second Rodney thought he just may have read things wrong and overstepped his bounds.

Keller broke the silence. "Rodney, that only works for dogs. You do this to cats." She ran her hand down her bottle of water to gather up some of the condensation and flicked it across the table at John. "_That_ works for cats. That, or a squirt bottle."

John blinked again, his expression clearly on the I-can't-believe-you-fucking-did-that side of surprised. Then he busted out laughing and dipped his head, his eyes crinkling as he wiped drops of water off his face. Everyone else followed, and Rodney let out a big sigh of relief before he started snickering.

"Oh, man, that brings back memories," John said as he pushed the cake towards Rodney. "I had a girlfriend in college who was always doing that."

"Hitting you with a rolled up newspaper?" Rodney said before stuffing nearly half the piece in his mouth.

"No, that damn water thing." He glared at Keller, but it was about as effective as the newspaper. Then his face crinkled in amusement again. "Man, haven't thought about her in years." He sighed rather wistfully, then shook his head. "Yeah, she was a witch."

Keller raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? Then what was the attraction?"

John looked up. "Oh, no – she didn't have a mean bone in her body." He paused a moment, his eyes a bit faraway. "No. She was a witch witch. You know, spells, charms…. That kind of witch." He got that wistful look again, but with a hint of a wicked smirk dancing at the edges. "Yeah, Rachael. She really liked my tongue …." He froze, the smirk dissolving into a grimace of horror. "Uh, forget that last part," he mumbled quickly and tried to hide behind his own water bottle. But it was too late, damage was done and his ears were crimson.

"Oh, no, you can't just leave a comment like that hanging," Keller said. She snapped her fingers a lot like Rodney would. "C'mon. Details." Her eyes got a little big. "You really have a tongue like a cat's?" Then she laughed, and it was so wicked Ronon did a double take.

"Yeah, Sheppard," Lorne added in his slow, lazy, deadpan drawl. "Spill, or you all owe us beer."

"What kind of beer do you like?" John sat his water back down, but he was still red.

"Expensive beer," Ronon said.

John nodded as nonchalantly as possible. "Okay."

Rodney finished his cake and coffee before all the snickers died down. "So, a witch, huh?" John nodded. "Well, considering that we've learned in the last year that vampires, were-whatevers, Elves, and pixies exist, then it doesn't surprise me at all that witches do, too."

"My nana was a witch," Zelenka said as he cleaned his glasses.

Rodney swiveled towards him. "Really?"

"Yes." He slid his glasses back. "The whole, ah, kit and caboodle – spells, charms, dancing naked under the full moon." He shook his head. "Never saw the latter, thank God, but she was well known in our village." He looked at John. "Did your Rachael do the latter?"

"Oh yeah." The wistful way John answered brought more laughter, and more color back to his ears. Then he suddenly became interested in the edge of the table. He shrugged and pouted a bit. "Not that I ever, you know, uh, joined in any of those … rituals."

Rodney snorted, and God damn if it still didn't sound a bit bearish. "You are so full of shit."

"Got any pictures?" Keller asked. Ronon grunted and scowled at her, and laughter filled the air once again.

Rodney glanced around at all the smiling people and grinned like a maniac. He was practically high on what was happening there, at the table. He was surrounded by, wow, friends, honest to God _friends_, he was still alive and in control of his faculties, and for the first time in weeks he realized….

He was going to be just fine.

_End Note: Ummm, might be a week before the next one is up. Negolith been bad, now caught up to all that is written, but it is planned. Will crank it out as soon as possible. Please, no rolled up newspapers. And being squirted makes me giggle._


	11. XI: Hide and Seek, Vargyr Style

_Author's Note: See, I'm NOT dead! Just, um, smell that way...._

**XI: Hide and Seek, Vargyr Style**

Rodney spent the rest of the afternoon in his lab, and he was in such a good mood he only laughed when he opened an e-mail from Zelenka that attached a worm that downloaded the song "The Bear Necessities" to his laptop and played it in an endless loop at full volume until he finally shut it down. So between other projects he found the program, tweaked it, and returned it. "Don't mess with the master," he said as he hit send.

Anyone who opened an e-mail from the Czech in the near future was going to be treated to a wave of the loudest, most pornographic moaning and groaning he could find.

He was still bouncing from his deviousness when Elizabeth stopped by to see how he was doing. She watched him from the door for nearly a minute, a hand covering her smirk, until he finally noticed her and jumped in surprise. "Oh, hey, Elizabeth – I didn't smell, er, um, see you there."

She shook her head. "I must say, Rodney – I haven't seen you this happy since your first day and you saw your allocated budget for the year."

Rodney lifted his chin and grinned, his head bobbing faintly. "You know, that _was_ a really good day."

Elizabeth actually smiled. "I don't think the IOC knew what they were getting themselves into."

"Not. A. Clue." Rodney's grin turned smug and slightly triumphant.

"At least they got their money's worth." She had to clamp down on a wider smile when Rodney's ears turned pink.

"It's, um, good to see you smiling again," Rodney suddenly stammered out.

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to blush. She tucked a curl behind an ear then crossed her arms a little self-consciously. "It has been awhile, hasn't it?" When Rodney nodded, she ducked her head a little. "It feels good."

He wanted to ask if Caldwell was the reason for her, well, upswing, but even he wasn't that blunt. He'd leave that to Keller – she was pretty much fearless in some matters. Hell, if he was seeing Shrek, he'd probably be fearless, too.

"I've been thinking about your current situation, Rodney. You know as well as I do how personal news travels here on Atlantis – in bits and pieces, wildly exaggerated, or not at all."

Rodney snorted. That was one good thing about working with focused scientists – if conversation didn't involve a project, most of the people here wouldn't even speak to each other. "Yeah, that's why Colonel Cuckoo got as far as he did…." When he saw Elizabeth blanch, he held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry – didn't mean to, um, dredge up bad memories." Mentally he smacked himself on the forehead and chanted _stupid, stupid, stupid_.

"No, no, it's all right, and completely legitimate. No harm, no foul." She rubbed her arms and offered an apologetic smile. "I was thinking this morning after I left the infirmary about how not everyone is going to know what is happening to you." She lifted an eyebrow. "And the big question is: would you want everyone to know?"

Rodney grunted as he thought about it. The rumor mill could be pretty insane, and only a few people actually seemed to know _everything_ that was going on – Caldwell and Lorne for certain, Zelenka most definitely, Elizabeth because the Colonel kept her updated, and Carson and Keller. Particularly Carson – it must have something to do with one, doctor/patient confidentiality, and two, he'd _made_ it his business to know everything after leading the rebellion last fall…. He crossed his arms. "So, what do you have in mind – a, a project wide memo?"

"Something along those lines. People already know and understand what Sheppard is – I think it would be best to corral any wild ideas before they get loose."

Rodney nodded. "That's … reasonable. I can have something written up before, ah, tonight."

"I would like to see it first." When Rodney started to protest, a hint of a smile came back to Elizabeth's face. "I've read your memos, Rodney – I want you to politely inform the community here of your recent 'change', not frighten them to death so they start looking for torches and pitchforks."

Rodney gave his head an embarrassed waggle and studied the floor. "Um, that was for Frankenstein. I'd be more worried about silver bullets."

Elizabeth let out short laugh, but sobered when she saw his expression. "You really are worried, aren't you?"

Rodney held up a hand, his thumb and forefinger barely a centimeter apart. "Just a little bit."

She nodded in understanding. "Well, how does this sound – you come up with your draft, and I'll put a calming, diplomatic spin on it? Sound like a deal?"

"Deal." Rodney felt a crooked, relieved smile split his face. "Thank you. I really mean it." The words came out so fast he could tell it took her a moment to translate.

"You're welcome." She finally uncrossed her arms and relaxed her own stance. "So, what are tonight's plans?"

"Um, I don't know. Well, besides getting incredibly hirsute and shorter, and walking around like a lame penguin, I haven't a clue. Sheppard said something about needing to make arrangements after lunch, but that was it." Rodney swallowed nervously. "And the way he said it was rather … ominous."

-oOo-

Rodney's dinner was sitting like a rock in his gut as he finished up a few odds and ends in his lab before Sheppard and Teyla came to get him. He had already changed into sweats and the biggest t-shirt he had in his collection – it was an old thing with an Atari logo on it he hadn't worn since he got hired on at Atlantis. Actually, no – _before_ Area 51, come to think about it. It had permawrinkles in it from being in the bottom of a drawer and had that slightly musty/dirty hair/cardboard smell old cotton shirts that had been stored for awhile in the bottom of a drawer _got_…. But he had no intention of wearing a scrub top again – it made him feel like a patient. And he wasn't. He was a, a, a, well….

_Freak_, his inner voice supplied.

"Oh, shut up, Gollum," Rodney muttered as he started powering down his computers. And because he spent part of the winter watching Zelenka's entire Xena collection with the lovesick Czech, Ronon, and Keller, his inner Gollum started making up its own words to Joxter's already incredibly annoying theme song. _Rodney the Werebear, covered with a lot of hair, if he's grumpy just beware…_.

He was in the process of banging his head against a counter top – not too hard, however – when John showed up. "Oh, hey – am I interrupting, ah, something?" he asked from the door.

Rodney snapped upright and rubbed his forehead, his face crinkled in a somewhat painful grimace. "Ow. No. Um, just forget you saw that."

"Okay." John drew the word out. He drew his lips in and cautiously ambled into the lab. "Brought you something to wear." His arm flicked out frighteningly fast.

And Rodney caught whatever it was just as quickly. For a second he just stood there and stared at the maroon bundle that still smelled like fabric softener, his mouth hanging open. _These new reflexes are so freakin' cool!_ he thought as he unrolled the t-shirt and snapped it open. The thing was a quadruple-extra large and had a giant bear paw on it in white with the words _Go Griz_ underneath. "Where in the hell did you get this?" he snapped.

John leaned against a counter and crossed his arms. "Ronon had it – he said someone gave it to him for Christmas and overestimated his size."

"I'll say." Rodney held it up by the shoulders – it was going to fit his hairy shoulders later with plenty of room to spare. "A Cub Scout troop could camp in this thing." He lowered it, then frowned at Sheppard. "Don't you own anything that isn't black, denim, or plaid?"

John glanced down at his black t-shirt and sweats. "What? I like black."

"Huh. Guess it would hide the fur better when you shed."

"Hey!"

Rodney smirked as he flipped the shirt over his shoulder. Then he looked past him. "Um, is Teyla joining us?"

"She's already down in quarantine," John replied, and for a moment a slightly puzzled frown darkened his features. "Speaking of which…. Shall we?"

"I suppose."

As they left the lab Rodney caught John, well, _sniffing_ the air out of the corner of his eye. "So, how's the stomach tonight?"

"Better than last night, that's for damn sure." It was gurgling, yes, but so far he hadn't needed to vomit or camp in the bathroom, and he chugged enough Mylanta earlier that his tongue actually went numb for a few minutes. "Still, um, nervous, though."

John nodded. "Understandable." When they stopped at the elevators he gave Rodney a tap on the shoulder. Rodney rocked in place. "But at least it won't be as bad as last night."

"You sure about that?"

"Oh, yeah."

Rodney just blinked at John, and when the guy drew his lips in and raised his eyebrows at the scrutiny, he just slumped. "Oh, hell – it's going to hurt like a mother again." While his head was lowered he noticed for the first time John was barefoot. "Do you know how unsanitary that is?"

It took a moment for John to follow Rodney's train of thought, then he just chuffed. "One less thing to worry about." They stepped into the elevator and he hit the button for SL2. "I honestly believe it will be less painful tonight. I really do."

"Well, I wish you'd 'realistically', or better yet, 'matter-of-factly' believe that."

"It wasn't so bad this morning, was it?"

"I wouldn't know – unconscious, remember?"

John chuffed again. "But only for a minute."

Rodney just sneered in reply.

Carson and Teyla were the only ones waiting for them when they got to quarantine, and he felt himself relax a fraction when Teyla gave him a big, warm smile and did that odd head-thing greeting. Then he saw her smile slip a fraction when she nodded at Sheppard. He only had time to think _what the hell_ before Carson said, "Well, Rodney – you look better than you did at this time last night. How's the stomach feelin'?"

"Upset, but dinner is going to stay put," he replied as Carson led him into the room with the bed. All of the monitors were gone and the room seemed huge. He dropped his new tent disguised as a t-shirt on the bed and hopped up without any prompting. "So, where is everyone?" He swung his feet like a little kid, and it was making him a little more nervous that the previous night's entourage wasn't present.

"Getting ready," John replied. He put his hands on his hips, offered a vulpine smile, and rocked back and forth a few times. "It's a surprise."

"Oh, God, I'm going to die," Rodney mumbled.

Teyla came over and sat on the bed next to him. "I assure you, it isn't anything that drastic." She rubbed his back. "It is something John came up with, and I think it is an excellent idea."

"You're going to have fun," John supplied.

"Doing what?" Rodney asked warily as Carson wrapped a cuff around his arm.

John didn't reply but just grinned instead. A moment later Carson cleared his throat. "I think you might want to give him a clue for his blood pressure's sake."

John blinked, mildly alarmed at that statement. "All right. We're going to play a little 'hide and seek'."

Rodney stared at him for a moment. "Hide and seek," he said rather flatly. "I'm turning into a carnivore that can bench press a hybrid in roughly, oh, twenty minutes, and we're going to be playing a, a child's game that, quite frankly, was never all that fun to begin with?" Memories from childhood rose up, of being forced to attend his neighbor Nancy's fifth birthday party and finding a really awesome hiding place behind an old potter's shed, only to wind up in the hospital because he didn't know there was a hornet's nest the size of a beach ball up in the eaves and one of the suckers nailed him…. "You're joking, right?"

"It is a very good plan," Teyla said. "It will be a wonderful test of your new senses."

Her hand continued to rub warm circles on his back, and he turned his head and smiled goofily at her. "You really think so?"

"I do."

"Well, in that case…."

John let out a disgusted chuff and threw his hands up in the air. Carson chuckled as he pumped the cuff up again. "Ah, better," he announced and draped his stethoscope around his neck. Then he took Rodney's temperature. "Still a tad up. But with the stress of yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised if you're fighting a bug." He put the cuff away.

Rodney braced for the inevitable blood draw, but when nothing happened, he blinked at Carson. "What? That's it?"

Carson crossed his arms. "That's it."

"Huh." He kicked his feet and glanced around at everyone. "Okay. I, um, might as well get ready then." When he pulled his right foot up onto his left knee, Teyla stood up and he instantly missed her hand on his back. He unlaced his shoe before he pulled it off, then balled his sock up and stuffed it inside before he just dropped it on the floor. The left shoe followed.

Teyla had picked up the t-shirt and was smirking at the logo. "Whose idea was this?"

"It was Ronon's," John answered.

Carson craned his head to see past John and snorted. "Clever."

Rodney snatched it out of Teyla's hands. "Yeah, premeditated, if you ask me. I bet he ordered it the day after he found out I was going to be a werebear." He slid off the bed and made a soft hiss as his feet hit cold tile. Everyone was just standing there, watching him, and he felt his neck get warm. "Um, could you all just turn around? You're freaking me out." Everyone did and he changed shirts as quickly as possible. He looked down – the t-shirt hung on him, the seams to the sleeves hitting him mid bicep, the _Go Griz_ hovering at about crotch level. "Jeez, I look like Sheppard did at Halloween." His feet were making the rest of him cold, and he started rubbing his arms.

John turned around and chuffed. "Naw, I think my shirts were looser."

"They were," Carson added.

It wasn't until he started scratching his arms that Rodney realized the itch was starting. It was mild, but it was definitely there. He looked at John, his eyes wide. "Um, how long...?"

John checked his watch. "About ten minutes. Itching?"

"Yeah." Rodney hopped up on the bed and sat on his hands.

"It's not too late if you want something," Carson said.

"No. No. I'm going to have to get used to this sometime. And I made it through this morning … kind of, without help. Just, ah, unconsciousness."

"All right."

"And I'm sure I passed out just because of all the trauma and stress of those, what, previous eight, nine hours. Because if you really think about it, just imagine what my body went through. My _bones_ changed shape and _length_, for crap's sake. And let me tell you, I felt every single centimeter realign. The first time. Not the second time, but on some fundamental level I must have felt it so my body just compensated by, ah, passing out and sparing me the repeated discomfort. And I was pretty sore until I got up and moved around and took a really long soak, which I'll probably need to do again in the morning. Oh, say – are there going to be sandwiches this time?"

John drew his head back and regarded Rodney with a mildly horrified expression. "McKay, you're babbling."

"Of course I'm babbling. I babble when I'm nervous." His stomach gurgled faintly. "And I also tend to vomit when I'm nervous, too. So, Teyla, you might want to move over by Snagglepuss because I might just need to make a mad dash…." His words cut off when instead she stepped up next to him and took his hand in hers.

"Breathe, Rodney," she said softly.

"Okay." He felt the coolness of her touch seemingly flow up his arm, and by the time he was breathing normally again it was time for John and Carson's watch alarms to go off. "Two minute warning," he mumbled as his heart leapt. The itching was getting bad, but not to the wanting-to-rip-his-skin-off bad like the night before. He looked up at John, and the man simply nodded and Changed. "Does it look that cool when I do it?" he blurted out and swallowed.

John gave him a crooked smirk, whiskers fully extended. "Yeah, it does."

"Cool. I, um, haven't seen the video feed yet. Was wondering." Now the burn was starting. "I think I'm going to lie down for this."

"Good idea," Carson said. He backed away from the bed and stood by the door.

That he wasn't leaving the room filled Rodney with some hope as he swiveled his legs up. He had to let go of Teyla's hand, but she did stay right by his side and rested it on his shoulder. He smiled weakly up at her, and she returned it with her own calm one. John appeared at his other side. "You're not going to hold me down this time, are you?"

"Don't think I'll have to, buddy. Unless you try to fall off."

"Okay." He was starting to shiver and felt like he had both a fever and the chills. A second later he felt Sheppard's hand/paw settle on his shoulder, and his shakes actually calmed a touch. He glanced up at him and saw John was looking at his watch.

"Any moment now."

Rodney could have told him that – the burn shot up a thousand degrees, he felt muscles squirm in ways that they really shouldn't, and then came the oily and incredibly unpleasant sensation of something crawling into his skin with him. The pain was horrible, yes, but gone so quickly he almost felt like he imagined it. He was still shivering from the after effects of adrenaline, however, and he laid there and just blinked up at the ceiling tiles.

And he could see his brown, wiggly bear nose in his lower peripheral vision again.

"Rodney?"

He rolled his head to the side and looked at Carson. "I'm here." The words were garbled and he rolled his tongue around in his mouth to get used to the feel of it again. "Let me try that again," he enunciated slowly, carefully. "I'm here."

Nobody sighed louder in relief than John did.

Rodney sat up and snapped his head in his direction. "Well, thanks for the confidence…." Then he caught his scent and could tell the man was just happy beyond words, and in the next second he found himself in a headlock and getting a noogie. "Hey! I don't want my hair looking anything like yours, thank you very much." He was let go a second later, and a second after that his nose was really twitching as he smoothed fur down. "Oh, hey! There _are_ sandwiches!" He hopped off the bed and literally started following his nose.

Carson's mouth dropped open. "How…?"

"Bears have incredible senses of smell," John replied as he started to follow Rodney. "You learn this when you live in the back woods of Montana. Never leave a chocolate bar in a glove box – they can smell it with the windows rolled up. I lost a window and some upholstery on my truck one spring. Sucked."

"I'll, ah, remember that," Carson replied, his tone a bit mystified. They followed John out into the hall and saw Rodney rummaging in a paper bag that was sitting on a stool in the medical station.

"You two better scoot – I'll keep him company," John said softly.

Carson nodded, then offered his arm to Teyla. "Shall we adjourn to the garden, lass?"

"Why, thank you, kind sir," Teyla replied and took his arm, and by God if Carson didn't color a tad. She nodded to John. "We will see you shortly." Then she was leading Carson to the exit.

_We'll be there in about fifteen minutes_, John sent. He just got a soft _hmm_ for a reply, and then they were gone.

He was still standing there, staring at the door, when Rodney wandered out with a sandwich in each hand. "They going to find hiding places?"

"Um, yeah." He turned to face Rodney and cocked his head. "Does Teyla seem, well, 'mad' to you?"

Rodney shrugged. "No. She seemed her usual inscrutable self. Why? Did you do something again?"

"No!" John cleared his throat. "At least I don't think so." He sniffed the air. "Say, is there another one of those peanut butter and pickle sandwiches left?"

"Yup." Rodney grinned smugly. "Another convert. Yes!"

They sat on the floor and took their time with their snack – Rodney wasn't nearly as famished this time as he was last, mainly because he was able to keep dinner down before changing. No, Changing, capital "C". That was already set in his mind, but he swore a silent oath to Einstein that he would never, ever use air quotes when saying the word. He brushed crumbs from his shirt as he stood, which his shoulders surprisingly filled out nicely with just a little extra room to spare, and noticed the hem rode higher than before. "Oh, hey – didn't notice my torso got longer before."

"Yeah, that's what makes your legs looks shorter than they really are."

"Thanks a lot!"

"Don't mention it." John brushed crumbs off his own shirt as he hopped to his feet. "So, ready for a little hide and seek, vargyr style?"

Rodney narrowed his eyes and grimaced, and had no idea how mean it made him look. "'Vargyr style'?"

"Yup." John tapped his nose. "You use this more than your eyes." He practically bounced to the exit. "So, c'mon. Everyone's waiting."

Rodney shuffled along, completely self conscious of his new gait. "Jesus, I really do walk like a lame penguin," he grumbled to himself. "And who is 'everyone'?"

"Oh, the whole crew – Carson, Teyla, Keller, Ronon, Lorne, Zelenka, Elizabeth, Caldwell…. They're in the greenhouse, waiting for us."

"Caldwell is playing along?"

John nodded. "I think he called it 'morbid curiosity'."

Rodney snorted. "I think he's doing it because Elizabeth is going to be there. Have you noticed…."

"Yeah. Personally, I think that's why she's been smiling again."

Rodney nodded. "So, we're basically going to waste the night with me playing McGruff the Crime Dog."

"Well, when you put it that way…."

"How am I going to tell who's who? Huh? I don't have a freakin' clue, and I certainly haven't gone around and, well, sniffed any of them." He paused. "I'm pretty sure I can find Zelenka, no problem. He's been eating kimchi like it's going to be banned."

"I know," John muttered. "It's … scary. But don't worry – you may consciously _think_ you don't know your friend's scents, but you've been around them since you recovered from your initial bite. I wouldn't be surprised if your inner Yogi already knows their scents like you know their faces."

"So, how do you, um, recognize people?"

For a few steps the only sound in the hall was the clicking of their respective claws. Then John stopped and glowered at Rodney. "I really wish you'd quit asking me these things and making me _think_ about them."

"Well, I'm sorry! But I'm brand new to this crap, _and_ a scientist." He snapped his fingers. "I need data!"

John held up his hands. "Sorry. I've just taken this stuff for granted for so long, it's, well, weird trying to put things into words." He settled one hand on his hip and scratched at his chin with the other as he thought. "Okay, how to put it – scents to me invoke both images and, well, feelings. Everybody has a base scent, the one thing that identifies them as, ah, them. It's a combinations of a lot of things – their sweat, skin oils, um, diet, hormones, pheromones…."

Rodney raised his eyebrows. "Pheremones? I'm not going to, say, catch a whiff of somebody's perfume and start humping their leg, am I?"

John let out a short bark of laughter that sounded an awful lot like a cough. "Oh, God, the image…." He shook his head. "No. You're not, but you are going to notice a very big difference between natural ones and artificial ones – the fake ones have a definite chemical tang. Now, where was I? Oh, images. All those things combine for me and I associate things I know with the scent and kind of link it all together with the person. For example, ah, Dr. Espinoza. Her normal scent always reminds me of sunflowers and warmth and, ah, well, lazy afternoons lying in the sun."

Rodney's eyebrows went up again. "All that, huh?" When John glowered at him, he snorted. "Don't forget the mint."

"See, your brain is already processing this stuff. And that's soap, by the way – she's told me that much." John rubbed his neck and shrugged.

"Okay, I see what you're getting at. It's pretty much just simple … association learned by rote."

John nodded. "Yeah, that sums it up."

"Huh." He started walking again, his head down as he thought. "Yesterday when I was waiting for you and Teyla to come back with dinner, I sort of made an analogy regarding your, ah, scent."

"And?"

"It made me think of clean cotton sheets that have been hanging on a clothes line to dry in the summer sun. With a hint of tom cat." John let out that hoarse laugh again, and Rodney grinned crookedly. "You're not coughing up a hairball, are you?"

John flipped him off.

Rodney snorted. "So, what do I smell like to you?"

"Well, right now – sawdust and Fritos."

Now it was Rodney's turn to stop dead in the middle of the hallway. "Hey, I was nice to you!"

"That's your bear scent, Rodney. Your normal scent … you always make me think of brand new electronics. It's this, this charged smell, like ozone and…." John's hands came up as he fished for words. "…You're like a walking battery. You just, well, _crackle_." Now his hands flopped down in frustration. "That the easiest way I can describe it." The corner of his mouth rose impishly. "You're indescribable, buddy."

"But in a good way, I take it."

"Scent wise, yeah. Personality wise, that's up to interpretation."

Now it was Rodney's turn to flip off John.

They were both snickering as they rounded the last corner, and when the door opened they were still grinning. A second later Rodney's face screwed up and he stopped just a few feet into the entryway. He let out an impressive sneeze. "What is that God awful smell?"

"Fertilizer," John supplied.

"Rodney?"

Both men whirled at the voice and saw Dr. Katie Brown standing in the door to her office, her hands up to her mouth. Her normally sad looking blue eyes were wide in pure surprise. Rodney did his little head shake/waggle. "Um, hi, Katie."

"Oh my God! It really is you!"

Rodney grimaced, his nose going a little pink. "Yeah. The outside changed, but I'm still the same up here." He tapped his temple, then instantly flinched and went _ow_ – he forgot about the claws. Katie let out a surprised little giggle as he rubbed his head, and he grimaced sheepishly.

She shook her head. "You look, look …." That was all she could get out.

"Thanks," he mumbled. The buzz of wings filled the air, and a second later he was flinching away from twin trails of sparkling dust as the greenhouse's resident pixies circled him. Personally, he didn't understand why everybody _ooh'd_ and _aah'd_ over them – as far as he was concerned, they were nothing more than glorified bugs that could talk. And that dust? It should come with a biohazard warning. He remembered what Ronon looked like after he got hit in the eyes with the stuff.

One of the buzzing vermin suddenly stopped and hovered about three feet from him. It was the female, Ira, and she held her hands up to her mouth just like Katie did a moment ago. "Dr. McKay?" she said. Then she clapped and let out a joyful squeal that surely broke glass somewhere. It certainly made Rodney flinch. "You look magnificent!"

Okay, maybe they weren't so bad after all.

She made another quick circle. "What are you?"

He slumped a tad. "I'm a werebear."

"You don't look like any werebear I've ever seen, and I know Vin Diesel personally."

Rodney turned to look at Ira's mate, Ifan. He was standing on Sheppard's shoulder, his arms on his hips, and with his dandelion puff of short black hair, he resembled a mini-Sheppard, with pointier ears. He'd never really noticed that before. He was going to snap something sarcastic back, but all that came out was, "You know Vin Diesel?"

"Trust me, Shorty, he's a werebear," John said.

"Really? What clan – Ursus Fuglicanus?"

"Why you little…." Rodney lunged forward, but even with his new inhumanly fast reflexes, his hands closed on empty air as Ifan shot straight upwards, laughing.

"Rodney!"

"Ifan!"

Both of them whirled and stared at the two women – one stood with her arms crossed, the other floated in midair, hands on hips and dust practically pouring off of her in a sparkly cascade.

John was trying really hard not to laugh.

"No hurting my staff," Katie said.

"And you behave," Ira said.

Ifan bowed his head. "Yes, luv."

"Your staff?" Rodney blurted.

"Yes, my staff. They perform very important duties here, help keep things healthy, so yes, they are part of my staff." She looked at John. "And I'm trusting you and the rest to respect this place tonight."

"We will," John choked out. "Thank you for letting us do this here."

Katie nodded, then pointed at him. "No climbing trees. I mean it. Your claws are rough on the bark."

"Yes, ma'am."

"All right, then." Katie's grin came back as she looked at Rodney. "The only other staff here tonight are working in the labs, so you have the place to yourselves. Have fun!" She ducked back into her office to retrieve her laptop and left them.

John glanced up at the pixies. "You want to join us?"

"Thank you, but no, my prince," Ira replied. "But we will be on call for the lights when you're done."

"Yeah, we're just going to hang and heckle," Ifan added. Then said _ow_ as Ira smacked him.

"Okay. That's cool."

Rodney didn't hide his sigh of relief, and it came out with a bit of a low, grumbling sub-vocalization. Then he did a double take. "Whoa, lights?"

"Oh, did I forget to tell you? This whole exercise is going to be in the dark."

"No, you neglected that little piece."

"Oh. Sorry." John waved at the pixies. "Okay, kill 'em."

Ifan snapped to attention and gave John a salute. "Yes, sir!" Then he and Ira were gone in a clatter of dragonfly wings and gold glitter.

John looked at Rodney. "Everyone is spread out on the ground floor here, and I'm going to give you bonus points if you can find Teyla since she smells like this place."

Rodney sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. "Like wet manure?"

John caught something sailing through the air a second before it bounced off the top of Rodney's head. Rodney yelled _ow_ and both hands went up just as his non-existent neck shrank down even more. "He didn't mean it, Teyla!" John yelled in the direction the – he glanced down – unripe plum had come from.

"I didn't!" Rodney yelled, too. "She does smell like a garden, now that I think about it," he added quietly.

The lights went out.

The greenhouse didn't plunge into total darkness like Rodney expected – the lights were set at a level equivalent to light from a full moon. Night mode, apparently. And he was amazed that he could still see things clearly. "Oh, wow – you didn't tell me I was going to be able to see in …." He glanced around and found he was completely alone. "…The dark. Hey!"

"Start sniffing," came John's voice from the heavy plant growth to his left.

Rodney growled, picked up the plum, and threw it roughly in that direction.

"Missed!" Then came some rustling followed by silence.

Rodney glanced around. It was eerily quiet in the greenhouse – there should be crickets or frogs or something. He did hear the pixies buzz overhead and caught a glimpse of their glittering dust trails as they headed up to a skybox seat on one of the catwalks. "Hide and seek," Rodney grumbled under his breath. "What are we, five-year-olds?" Since Sheppard had been the last person he was around he decided to try to follow his scent first. Should be a piece of cake. He, and he really couldn't believe he was doing it, lifted his head a touch and started sniffing the air. Manure was still the main thing he could smell, but after a moment he did catch whiff of … cat. Actually, what seemed to run through his head was a jumble of _Sheppardcatfriendfoehiderunfight_. Rodney shook his head. It happened so fast, and he knew, somehow, that his inner Yogi was pretty much responsible for the whole thing. And scared spitless of the guy. "Whoa," he whispered. "That's weird." He shrugged. "Not half as weird as this, however."

He followed Sheppard's trail down the left hand path before it veered into the neatly tended foliage. He stood there and debated a moment if he should follow, so he leaned forward and got his face in amongst the plants and sniffed. Then he saw the flagstones. "Okay, so Katie _won't_ kill me after all," he said and carefully pushed plants aside as he stepped up onto the raised bed. He was amazed at the numbers of little pathways the deeper he got, and how easy it was to follow the trace Sheppard left behind on the undergrowth. But then, probably fifteen minutes later, he realized he was being led in circles. "Asshole!" he called out, and somewhere in the distance he heard that weird coughing laugh.

He was working his way back out to the main stone pathway, grumbling under his breath about smart-asses, when something new caught his nose. He froze and sniffed, his head turning this way and that. He was filtering out the manure smell now, and what he was picking up reminded him of, of Old Spice, Juicy Fruit gum, and…. Sniff. Cabbage? No, no … brussels sprouts. Over cooked brussels sprouts, just like what his mother made him and Jeannie eat. All. The. Time. Gyah, he still couldn't even stand the sight of the despicable things. He followed the new scent, faint nausea riding at the back of his throat, and not even thirty seconds later came across Caldwell sitting behind a giant fern looking thing. Both men yelled in surprise – well, Caldwell yelled, Rodney let out an odd, practically dog-like yelp – and held hands to their chests.

"Jesus!" Caldwell said as he pulled his hand away. A second later a mini maglight flashed on and blinded Rodney. "Oh, it's you."

Rodney had a hand up to shield his eyes. "Yeah, happy to see you, to, Colonel."

"Everything all right down there?"

Caldwell shone the light upwards and they saw John in the branches above them. Well, they saw his eyes, anyways.

"Hey, you're supposed to stay out of the trees!" Rodney snapped back.

John just chuffed and disappeared. They heard a faint thump a second later.

"Good, looks like I'm out," Caldwell said as he stood up and brushed the seat of his pants off. "Enjoy yourself, Yogi." With flashlight in hand, Caldwell started following flagstones back to the main path.

"Yeah, I will, Col. Cabbage," Rodney replied under his breath.

And, quite honestly, with his first victory achieved so quickly, he was starting to have a little fun. Of course he wasn't about to admit it.

He decided to stay on the path that wove through the center of the beds for the moment, and every once in awhile he'd straighten up and sniff the moving air above the plants. He was two thirds of the way down the side of the huge place, and starting to get frustrated – especially since Sheppard was making things hell and apparently just running all over the damn place – when he finally caught something new.

And it smelled really, really good, like, like … a bakery and twelve-year-old whiskey. _Gotta be Carson_, he thought and followed the scent. He wove around and through two different beds, even crossing the main path once and coming across another of John's trails and somebody else's, and somewhere near the wall found…. "Jennifer?"

She snapped a penlight on, but was kind enough not to shine it directly in his face. "Hey, Rodney! Damn, you did good! I thought for sure I zigged and zagged enough to throw you off."

Rodney grinned smugly. "Nope." Something bounced off his head.

"Don't get cocky," filtered down from above.

Rodney looked but couldn't see anything, even with the faint light from Keller's penlight. "I'm telling Katie you're climbing the trees."

A very wet raspberry came from somewhere above.

Keller was giggling as she got up. "He told you."

"Har har."

"See you up front when it's all done. We brought treats." She started down a path, stopped, shone the light around, then backtracked. "I came in this way," she said sheepishly. "I remember that weird flower."

Rodney waited a moment before following her. Her new wave of scent almost overpowered the faint one he caught before – it was swampy, musky, and made his inner bear raise its hackles – and this time he knew for a certain who it was. He followed it to a tree, and for a second almost panicked because it was an orange tree, and looked up. "Hi, Shrek. Figured you wouldn't be far from Jennifer."

Ronon grunted and dropped down. He was wearing night vision goggles, and underneath those his shit-eating grin practically glowed in Rodney's own were-enhanced night vision. Ronon thumped Rodney on the back, hard, and for once Rodney actually stayed upright. "See you later. I brought beer." He pointed a finger at him. "Nice shirt." Then he was trotting off through the undergrowth.

"What kind of beer?" Rodney called after him.

"Good beer."

Rodney snorted and decided to head out back onto the main path again. He was nearing the last curve that passed the back wall when he got his next hit, and of all the scents he'd picked up so far, this was the first one that didn't bring up any images of any kind. Instead it was simply a feeling, a sense of all encompassing comfort and warmth. He blinked as, for a brief moment, he felt a lump in the back of his throat and his eyes get warm. Even the bear in him seemed taken and, well, peaceful. He veered off the path, and not even ten feet in found Carson.

"Bloidy hell!" Carson yelled when he suddenly found himself in a hairy, warm, and literal bear hug. He cautiously patted Rodney's now very broad back. "Um, Rodney? I'm having trouble breathing…."

Rodney let go and sniffed. It sounded a little wet. "Um, sorry. I just, ah, was, um, glad to find you." He could see Carson squinting at him oddly. "Well, um, four down, four to go." He shuffled off on his stubby legs. "See you up front." He heard Carson's somewhat befuddled _okay_ drift back to him.

He was in such a hurry he about gave himself whiplash when he caught a wave of, well, a thunderstorm on a hot summer night. He wandered into the beds in the center of the greenhouse, and when he heard a soft startled intake of breath he gently called out, "It's just me, Elizabeth." _Cool_, he thought. _I think I'm getting the hang of this_.

There was a soft, somewhat embarrassed giggle. "Sorry, Rodney – I'm still a little jumpy."

Rodney rounded a bend in the narrow path and found her sitting on a flagstone. "Understandable." He saw she was wearing a ball cap with an REI logo and a little headlamp attached to it, her hair in a pony tail sticking out of the back. After she turned it on he held out a paw. "Can I walk you back to the path?"

She accepted it with a smile. "Why, thank you. I'd appreciate it."

He ignored the really soft snort from somewhere off to his right, and that made him decide to escort her all the way up to the front entrance and the labs.

On the way back he just stopped in the middle of the path and put his paws on his hips. "All right, Radek, you just might as well come out – I caught your reek earlier, and let me tell you, a leper could sniff you out. Good God, man – how much kimchi have you eaten? It's, like, pouring off of you, leaking out of your pores and forming a, a miasmic cloud of … nasty!"

"A … lot?" Zelenka said as he came out of hiding. "And I did shower before I came here. You are just too sensitive. Always too sensitive," he muttered as he wandered off, a small maglight helping him find his way.

Rodney still wasn't sure what Zelenka's normal scent was.

He wandered for twenty minutes, his frustration growing by the minute, before his bear actually caught the next one. One moment he was wandering through plants, his stance low and at times even walking along on all fours in some spots, and the next he was standing bolt upright, the hair along his neck, shoulders, and spine standing straight up, or trying to under the t-shirt, and he was growling. _DANGER_ his inner bear screamed, and Rodney bared his teeth as his head swiveled from side to side. His rational brain registered the scent and linked it with hot copper, but his animal brain was getting ready to attack.

Something dropped down behind him and he whirled.

John was standing there, slightly hunched, legs looking like he was ready to launch himself right at Rodney, and claws extended. "_McKay_…." he growled out. "Get a grip."

Rodney could feel the bear in him flinch, but not back down. He was so shocked at its defiance it took enough control to make him take a step forward and roar.

John took a step forward and answered with a roar of his own.

The sound seemed to vibrate its way through Rodney, and like in the infirmary just that morning, he found himself cowering and offering his throat. "Got it! Grip! Have it now!" he blurted out the second the bear retreated.

"Whoa! Hey – what the hell?" Lorne suddenly popped up from a spot deeper in the plants. He had a pair of night vision goggles, too, and his head was tracking back and forth between Rodney and Sheppard like they were playing tennis and not just standing there. He caught John waving him to stay put, and he did.

The sound of running footsteps on stone came from the direction of the main path, shortly followed by Caldwell's sharp voice. "Everything all right back there?" Lights flickered between plants like mutant megawatt fireflies, but they didn't advance.

John stepped closer to Rodney. He cocked his head and his teeth were showing when he sniffed the air a few times. "Yeah, it is," he called back, his eyes never leaving Rodney. Then, in a much quieter tone, "Teyla, is it?"

"Yes, the spirit has retreated."

Rodney spun back around and jumped when he saw Teyla within an arm's reach of him. His heart was hammering so hard he was starting to get a headache, but she smiled reassuringly at him and he let out an explosive sigh of relief. He jumped when John suddenly let out a short, sharp whistle, which was answered from above by two sharp chirps.

"Lights will be on in a minute," John said, his voice not sounding nearly as, well, feral as it did just moments before. "What happened, Rodney?"

"Umm…." Rodney had to sit down – for short stubby legs, they felt pretty damn wobbly and unstable right then. "I picked up Lorne's scent, and, and … Yogi just went ballistic." He caught what he could only describe as an indignant twinge in the back of his head. "I don't know why."

Lorne cautiously came out of the foliage at John's beckon. "What's it doing now?"

"Sulking."

"Huh."

Rodney looked up at Lorne, who was now only a few feet away. He was in camouflage, and when Rodney leaned forward a fraction and sniffed, the guy actually flinched. He was still picking up the hot copper smell, but it was just secondary to an almost, well, snow scent – cold, crisp, clean, refreshing _snow_, his mind translated, pure and simple.

The lights came up, and everyone present flinched and covered eyes. Lorne pulled the goggled down around his neck and blinked a few times. "On that note," he said, his voice completely calm, "I think it's time for beer."

"Good idea," Rodney muttered, and a second later felt the bear in the back of his head perk up. _Oh, you know what beer is, do you? Well, after that little display, I don't think I should let you have any_. The whiney twinge he felt was truly pitiful.

They all adjourned to the small conference room next to Katie's office where a couple cold packs and some chips and popcorn waited. Everyone was a bit cautious at first, but after the first round things quit being so stiff, and when Rodney decided to lighten the mood by seeing if he could catch popcorn on his long, floppy tongue, things perked up considerably. By the second round John was tossing popcorn at him, Rodney was snapping it up like a freakishly hairy chameleon, and Keller coined them Jake and Elwood. After his third beer he felt the bear in his head grumble contentedly and curl up, and a second later he realized just how damn tired he was as well.

He slept in his own quarters that night, a watch-cat and a watch-elf sacked out in the living room just in case….

_End Note: And I_ promise _that it won't be six weeks before the final chapter. I have normal blood sugar readings again, retina is not reattached but dammed so it won't detach any further, but I still despise my job and daydream a lot.... So, to quote Ronon, I'm good._


	12. XII: Full Moons and Butt Sniffing

_Author's Note: See, I didn't fall off the face of the Earth! Last chapter, and mucho apologies for the delay. I was a bad writer. No biscuit for me._

**XII: Full Moons and Butt Sniffing**

What Elizabeth found in her in box the next morning:

_To: atlantis-all_

_From: Dr. Rodney McKay_

_As you may have already heard, while attending the International Science Symposium in Prague earlier this month I had the misfortune of being bitten by a Pretender (see this __e-mail__ from Dr. Weir 11/2/07 for clarification). Or, more specifically, a werebear. I have already survived two nights of transformation, and I can assure all of you – my personality and faculties have remained unchanged, and it can be safely said that that shall remain the case._

_Any questions can be directed to me, personally, and should I be unavailable I have authorized Dr. Weir and our own resident werepanther, John Sheppard, to act as my advocates._

_Dr. M. Rodney McKay, Ph.D., Ph.D._

-oOo-

Rodney was a scientist, so that pretty much meant that in the grand scheme of things he had more curiosity than an entire crazy lady's bevy of cats. After lunch on that third day he stopped by one of the chem labs and picked up a small bottle of silver nitrate solution. Since he was a genius, and there was no way in hell he'd ever test the solution on his skin directly, _and_ he really wanted to know if any of those cheesy monster movies had any merit, he prepared a slide with a few drops of his blood on it. Then, after double gloving, putting on a mask and safety goggles, then a splash guard filched from the infirmary over those, he carefully added a drop of silver nitrate.

His blood sample bubbled and burned away in a matter of seconds and cracked the slide.

-oOo-

"Do you know how many things there are in this place that have the potential to kill me, Carson? Do you? I risk my very life just stepping through the door!"

Carson jumped when Rodney barreled into his office in full rant mode. "What…."

"I could just come in for a hangnail – not that I wouldn't come in for a hangnail because really, I'm not _that_ pathetic – or, or, or a deep sliver or burn and _blam_, I could lose my hand. Not just a finger, but _my entire hand_!"

"Rodney…."

"Are you aware of how many simple antiseptics have, have trace amounts of silver in them? A crapload! And that is a legitimate scientific term, mind you – it means more than I really want to contemplate at this moment."

"What in God's…."

"We need to do an inventory. Right now! Gather up anything that is lethal to me and incinerate it immediately…." Rodney fell silent only after Carson stood up and whacked him soundly on top of the head with the latest issue of the _Journal of Molecular and Genetic Medicine_. "Ow!"

"All right – now that I have your attention…." Carson slapped the journal back down on his desk and Rodney jumped. "What in the bloidy hell are you prattlin' on about?"

Rodney lifted a hand and made a rolling motion. "Hello – allergy to silver."

Carson let out the most put upon sigh of his entire life. "Rodney, I am fully aware of that, and there is a complete listing of what can and cannot be used on you in your medical history." Then his eyes suddenly got wide. "Oh, dear God – what did you do?" He came around the desk in full mother hen mode.

"Nothing."

Carson crossed his arms and glowered.

"Nothing!" Rodney repeated. When Carson continued to glare at him he added, "Directly to me. It was a blood sample. A couple drops. That's all!" He rubbed his head and grimaced.

"What happened?" Carson asked, his irritation gone in an instant.

"It burned up. _Poof_. Point-zero-one solution."

"Really, now…."

Rodney did not like the way Carson said that – to him it was translating as _I'd like to see that, let's try it again._ And his expression…. "Don't look at me like that. You're giving me flashbacks to Chaya…." The second the words left his mouth, Rodney truly regretted it. Carson reacted as if slapped, and the utter despair and pain that crossed his friend's face was almost too much to take. "Sorry! Sorry! Didn't mean it! Backtracking now – shall never mention that name ever again. It and Valdemort are synonymous from now on." He made a zipping motion over his mouth, and that did elicit a faint smile from Carson. He decided to change direction. "So, is Sheppard allergic to silver, too, or am I just the lucky one in that department?"

Carson ran a hand down his face and scratched at the day old stubble on his chin. "He's sensitive, yes, but not that sensitive. He did break out in a rash from some of the treated dressings after several days, but it wasn't too nasty. It was a good thing Teyla was around for advice." Carson grimaced faintly. "Now she and the pixies have to be careful with…. Ah, that's really not for me to say."

Rodney made a mental note to try to _casually_ ask Teyla if she had any allergies.

"Now, can I set your mind at ease and show you the notes in your file?"

Rodney nodded, and fifteen minutes later he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or nauseous. The list was impressive. "Holy crap, Carson. You're … you're _thorough_, to say the least."

"Aye, Rodney, I am." Carson grinned smugly. "I'm a good doctor. And you're a good friend." He gave Rodney's shoulder a squeeze. "Even if you do wish I was a veterinarian three days every month."

"Oh, har har." Rodney sneered, but inside he was beaming.

-oOo-

The third change was still uncomfortable as hell – he still got the chills and sweats and shakes before the brief flash of pure, mind blowing agony followed by the surreal euphoria. Even the bear within him seemed more comfortable with it, but it still, in his scientific opinion, sucked big time.

"So, what are we going to do tonight?" Rodney asked John from his perch on the quarantine room's bed, his feet swinging a good foot above the tile floor.

John beetled his brows. "Same thing we do every night, take over…."

"Oh, no. No no no no no. I'm the Brain, or did you forget?"

John chuffed. "Yeah, I think we _all_ know that. Many times over." He glanced at Carson and rolled his eyes, and Carson snorted.

"Well, whatever you two do, play nice. These last two nights have worn me out." Carson scrubbed his face. "Keller has night shift tonight. I'm off to bed."

"'Night, doc," John said. Carson nodded and gave him a weak wave as he shuffled on by. Then he focused on Rodney, his whiskers fully forward and fanned and a devilish smirk lighting his dark features. "It hasn't rained for two days – how do you feel about going outside?"

If Rodney's ears could move, they'd be standing straight up and perked forward. "Really?" He hopped off the bed and damned near bounced in place.

John let out a short, coughing laugh. "You, lab denizen extraordinaire, are anxious to go outside?"

Rodney's muzzle scrunched down into an irritated scowl. "Yeah? So?" He wasn't about to admit he had had a blast in the greenhouse, until Yogi went all psycho over Lorne – and really, what the hell was _that_ all about anyway – and now he was eager to try the "great outdoors". If anything, he was dying to know what it _smelled_ like….

John held up his hands, but he was still grinning. "Jeez, okay. Down, boy. Let's go." They headed out into the hall, and as they clicked their way to the service elevators John gave Rodney a sideways glance and asked, "So, how you doing with your resident?"

Rodney was quiet for a moment, his muzzle now wrinkled into a _thoughtful_ snarl. "It's really strange," he started, hesitantly. "During the day I can feel it in the back of my mind, like I constantly have someone incredibly large and grumpy watching everything I do over my shoulder, kind of like my high school chemistry teacher. On steroids. With PMS. I've even turned around a few times and expected someone to be standing there the sense is so strong, but there never is." They had reached the service elevators and Rodney poked the down button with a claw. "It's like having a sentient shadow." The doors slid open silently. "Is that what it's like with you?"

John followed Rodney into the elevator. "Well, yes and no. I may call my vargyr soul my inner jaguar, but it's more like, ah, my, um … base nature? It's still me but … not?"

"Ah, an id versus superego thing. Huh." Rodney nodded to himself. "Never thought those therapy sessions would come in handy this way." He snorted. "On the outside you present a civili … well, a rational … ah, human, but on the inside you're basically an animal." He didn't notice John's glare. "But me, I'm actually _possessed_ by Yogi's evil ankle biting twin that loves beer and must be part frog." He hadn't miss a single piece of popcorn John flicked at him the night before. Not one.

John chuffed. "That was pretty funny. Caldwell damn near blew beer out his nose."

"He did? Damn, I missed that."

The doors opened and they found themselves on the lowest level of Atlantis. As they started down the long corridor that traversed the entire length of the complex both men fell silent when they passed the room that once held a horror contained behind a force field. They were well past it before either one spoke again. "So, you really can't change into a full panther?"

"Nope. I'm either human or this mix." He held up his hands and regarded them. "The best of both forms, _with_ opposable thumbs."

"But you _can_ run on all fours." He'd seen the security video of that last run, too, and it both fascinated and freaked the hell out of him.

"Yeah, but it makes my lower back hurt like a mother – way out of practice."

"Huh. I can see why." Not quite a third of the way down the corridor they turned right into a much wider one. "But running all doubled over like you do doesn't? Just watching you makes _my_ back scream."

"Once I get up to speed, it's more of a matter of balance than anything." John turned around and walked backwards a few steps as he gestured at Rodney's now considerably shorter legs. "Bet you could run better on all fours than I can. Your legs don't have the freaky ankles and stretched out feet like mine do." He turned back around. "Of course those gorilla arms you're sporting…." He danced away from the swipe Rodney took at him. "Just sayin', McGilla."

Rodney snorted.

The corridor ended in a garage door, and next to it a double metal safety door. John pulled his security badge out of his sweat's pocket and swiped it through the reader. A multiple click sounded and he pushed one side open. "After you."

Rodney led the way, then stopped and sniffed the air. "Teyla and Ronon are joining us?""And who else?"

Sniff. The little and numerous hairs on Rodney's neck rose briefly. "Lorne." He glanced at Sheppard and saw the ultimate Cheshire cat grin.

"You are learning, young Padawan."

Rodney flipped him off.

They passed the fleet of forklifts and electric mules and pallet jacks and made their way past the shelves and crates of supplies to the loading dock. Another door, another swipe, and they were on the loading dock. Ronon, Teyla, and Lorne over by the boathouse waiting for them. "So, how do you like the great outdoors so far?" He went a couple steps before he realized he was alone and turned around.

Rodney was frozen in place only a few feet from the door, his head back, eyes closed, and his nose wiggling back and forth like a giant rabbit's. He took in a deep, deep breath, and on the exhale let out a rumbling, basso sigh of pure contentment. And for the first time since he changed, he felt the bear in him bristle with utter joy.

It was incredibly intoxicating.

He could smell the sea, the trees, the dirt, fish, gasoline and oil, humans and Pretenders, the concrete, fish…. His brain was seemingly processing everything at light speed and feeding him information on every single aspect of the environment around him, letting him know that he was, well, _home_. His skin was tingling and he just knew his fur was rippling in goose bumps from his head to his feet.

Then he opened his eyes. "Oh, wow."

Rodney never really thought about moonlight. Hell, he never really noticed it before, especially since he was seldom outside, and being the Pacific Northwest it was usually clouded over and raining those few times he had ventured near a window. Of course there was that ill fated night up in the astronomy lab…. That night had been relatively clear, but it wasn't the moon that had everyone's attention. Right now all he could see _was_ the moon, and every single fiber of his being seemed to be riveted on it. Silvery didn't even begin to cover what he was seeing – the surface rippled with color as iridescent and myriad as a fine Australian opal, a constant shifting and shimmering that practically breathed with a life of its own. The scientist within him was babbling that that wasn't possible, but the bear spirit was damn near singing praises to it.

The light even had _weight_…. He could feel it caressing his fur like phantom breaths, making his skin warm and his blood and body hum, and he wanted to just throw his head back and howl with joy. Or the bear equivalent, that is. Again the scientist spoke up with _that's preposterous_, and Rodney replied with a mental _oh, shut up_. His inner Yogi snorted.

A heavy sigh distracted Rodney, and he glanced to his left and saw Sheppard standing next to him, his arms crossed and his own gaze fixed on the moon. "Gorgeous, isn't it?" he said on a soft breath.

Rodney's attention went back to the sky. "Yeah." They stood there in silence for a moment, and above the sound of the waves lapping against shore and dock they could hear soft footsteps approach. A moment later Teyla was standing on the other side of Rodney. "Have you two always seen the moon like this?"

"Yes," Teyla replied contentedly. From the other side Rodney heard Sheppard suck in a breath and sigh. "To my people, She is a reflection of our heart – the pure light of our true selves."

"To vargyrs, most anyway, our soul."

Rodney didn't know what it was about the way Sheppard said that, but he turned his head and looked at the other man. For the briefest moment he saw the laid back, nothing-phases-me mask slip, and a sadness there that even stilled the bear in him. Then John noticed his audience and the mask was back in place, and Rodney really wondered what other things had happened to him in his past to cause that much of a shadow….

John cleared his throat and ducked his head a bit. "I, ah, always loved moonlight on water. It's … peaceful." He shrugged and rubbed at his neck self consciously.

Rodney finally focused on the bay, and another soft _wow_ escaped him. The water was as colorful as the moon herself.

"You three just going to stand there and gawp all night?" Ronon yelled out. Rodney jumped and saw the big man waving them over, his teeth flashing in the, to Rodney anyway, incredibly bright light. "Get your asses over here – we have a pic-a-nic basket."

"And beer," Lorne added.

Rodney's stomach and inner bear were leading him on in a heartbeat. He stopped a few steps away from Lorne and they gave each other a weary once over, but the bear stayed quiet and both let out faint sighs of relief. Then Rodney was eyeing the fairly large cooler that sat between Lorne and Ronon. He rubbed his paws together and claws clattered ominously. "So, what did you bring, um, beer wise?"

Ronon let out a short bark of laughter. "What, you're not hungry?"

"Well, yeah – changing requires a lot of calories, and, you know, hypoglycemic and all." He got distracted when Ronon flipped the top up and the scent of bread and roast beef and horseradish filled his sinuses. He let out a happy little sound as he snatched up a humongous sub sandwich and a brown bottle without a label. "What's this?" He looked at his full hands, from wrapped sandwich to bottle, and was at a loss as to what to tackle first. He wanted the sandwich, but Yogi was leaving puddles of drool on his cerebellum over the beer. _Jeez, am I going to have to do a, a psychic intervention? Chill!_ He wasn't quite certain, but he thought his resident whimpered.

"Dunno," Ronon said as he grabbed a couple bottles in each hand and proceeded to pass them out. "Teyla brought 'em."

"I thought something special would be in order," Teyla supplied with a warm smile. She calmly reached over and twisted the top off of Rodney's bottle before uncapping her own.

John held his up to the light and squinted at the contents before he opened it, then hesitantly took a sniff before he sipped. He lifted an eyebrow. "This isn't Sidhe, is it?"

Teyla smirked and dropped her chin. "Are you hallucinating?"

"Um…." John squinted at Rodney. "He still a hairy, bowlegged, barrel-chested knuckle-dragger?"

"Yup," Ronon and Lorne both replied.

"Huh. Guess not, then." He took a longer pull and almost dribbled because of the smirk that lit his dark features.

"Asshole," Rodney muttered before taking a swig. His eyes rolled back and he made a low, rumbling growl of pure pleasure. "Oh, dear God," he muttered as the aftertaste of honey hit. Even Yogi was burbling happily in the back of his mind. "Oh, please tell me there is more, 'cuz seriously, this is, is, is nirvana."

Teyla laughed softly. "Yes, there is more for later. But for now…." She raised her bottle. "To you, Dr. McKay, and your successful and certainly beyond expectations transformation. It is wonderful to still have … _you_ with us."

"Hear, hear," Lorne said, and actually sounded sincere.

"Don't let the staff hear that," Ronon added as they clinked bottles together. "They were hoping he would actually _change_."

Rodney stuck his floppy tongue out, and Ronon just laughed. "Well, Zelenka has already stated that _he_ couldn't see much of a change. So, it's same old same old."

"With the only exception being three days every month you need industrial strength Nair," John said.

"And you need it daily," Rodney shot back. "Seriously, you don't have a five o'clock shadow – it's more of a five minute shadow. I bet you started shaving in the fifth grade." He took a drink. "And please don't tell me vargyr women are as hairy as the men. That would be just so sick and wrong."

Now it was John's turn to stick his tongue out.

"Yup," Lorne drawled. "No change at all."

-oOo-

After Ronon and Rodney had their "little" snack, the whole group decided to head to the beach on the north shore of Atlantis. Lorne and Ronon tagged a half dozen steps behind and carried on a quiet conversation about the best fishing spots in Alaska. John knew why they were back there – when Ronon bent over to grab a sandwich for himself he saw the zat stuffed in the waistband of his pants when his hoodie rode up in back. No doubt the Major had one as well, and he was pretty sure Rodney didn't notice.

At the moment Rodney wasn't noticing much of anything. His nose was literally leading him down the path, and he was acting like a puppy. His head was swiveling back and forth, his nose twitching like crazy, and he had yet to finish a complete sentence before something else distracted him. When he heard Sheppard laughing softly he glared at the man. "What?"

"You remind me of a cartoon I saw years ago about what goes through the mind of a puppy. 'Ooo, ooo, what's that? Gotta sniff it! Oop, gotta pee. Ooo, ooo, what's that? Gotta sniff it! Oop, gotta pee!'" He was laughing when Rodney just casually backhanded him in the arm. John shot nearly ten feet sideways, rolled through duff, and came up on his feet and in a crouch, claws extended.

The whites of Rodney's eyes were showing as he froze in place. "Holy crap!" he barked out in surprise. "Oh, crap," he muttered a second later as he registered Sheppard's ready-to-attack stance.

John sheathed his claws, rubbed his arm, and let out a somewhat high-pitched and indignant, "Ow!" He stomped back over to Rodney and glowered at him. And shook. Pine needles and dirt flew everywhere, and Rodney smirked. John's eyes narrowed and he smacked Rodney upside the back of his head.

"Ow!"

Lorne and Ronon were snickering, and Teyla just shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I don't think Yogi and Snagglepuss fits you two," Lorne said. "You're definitely becoming more like Balloo and Baggy."

John and Rodney glared alarmingly at Lorne, suddenly looked at each other, then both broke up. "Oh, man – I'm never going to be able to watch that with my niece ever again without picturing your furry mug," Rodney moaned.

"And if you start to shake and shimmy and sing, you're on your own, pal."

Teyla had her arms crossed and one hand up by her mouth to cover her own soft laugh. "I don't know, John – I think that would be rather adorable."

"Hey, no help from the peanut gallery!"

"And trust me, you don't want to hear my singing," Rodney added. He pointed at Ronon, his long claw waggling in the moonlight. "Now you'd make a pretty good King Louie, I think. You have a primate thing going there, what with the crazy hair and the grunting."

Ronon put his hands on his hips and frowned.

"Or, maybe not." He glanced at John, and snorted. "Baggy."

John chuffed. "Balloo." When he turned back around to head down the path, he gave a little shimmy, started humming, and clapped his hands over his head.

"Oh, for the love of …," Rodney growled and threw his hands up in the air. He flashed his teeth at Lorne. "This is all your fault, you know."

The Major's own teeth flashed in the moonlight.

"Hmm – that really is adorable," Teyla said, and John suddenly started walking normal again, his head down however and the line of his shoulders, well, _pouty_.

Rodney heard him mutter something along the lines of _Onca are not adorable_ as he hurried to catch up. He fell into step next to him, and they walked in silence for awhile, the moonlight dappling the path before them and the quiet only broken by the soft sound of footsteps and the night breeze high up in the tall pines.

But every once in awhile, one would glance at the other and snicker.

They could hear the sound of waves crashing upon the rocks protecting the little beach before Rodney spoke up. "I'd like to try, um, changing into a full bear." He felt Yogi – and as far as he was concerned that's what he'll remain – perk up in his mind.

John glanced at him, eyes narrowed and flashing blue for a moment as the light hit them at just the right angle. "I don't know, McKay. I think it'd be better if you waited…."

"I am in control," Rodney snapped. "If that's what you're worried about."

"Well, yeah."

"I can do this."

John looked past Rodney to Teyla as she came up beside him. "What do you think?"

Rodney felt a light touch on his arm and turned to face Teyla. She kept her hand on his as she studied him, and for a second Rodney swore her eyes went cat slit. He blinked, and decided it just had to be the shadows playing tricks on him.

"He is ready." She lowered her hand and smiled sweetly.

Rodney grinned crookedly and looked at Sheppard. He stood there with his arms crossed, and it was obvious he still didn't share her confidence. He felt his grin start to slide, until John chuffed and relaxed his whiskers, of all things. He never thought in a million years his experience with cats would help him understand a person so well. But then Sheppard started smirking. "You do realize you'll have to strip to do a full change."

"Crap." Rodney looked down at his not so baggy t-shirt and sweats. "These are stretchy. They'll be fine."

"I'm not a wildlife biologist, but I've seen enough of them to know a bear's ass is a wider than its shoulders," Ronon rumbled.

"You won't be able to talk to us, either," John said.

"Crap," Rodney muttered again.

Teyla put her hand on his forearm again. "I will be able to hear you, Dr. McKay – I can be your voice." She raised an eyebrow at John.

John just lifted his hands and shrugged.

"Oh, okay." He glanced down again at his clothes. "Strip? Really?"

"I think it would be best." Teyla pointed to some scrub brush near the tree line. "That should give you some privacy."

Rodney started to shuffle that way, and when he glanced at Sheppard he truly couldn't read anything from his expression. He got behind the bush – it was an evergreen of some kind, that much he knew, and it had little white berries that glowed blue in the moonlight and smelled like cheap gin – and found it was pretty private. But he could still see Lorne and Ronon grinning like maniacs. His stomach dropped. "You better not have a camera, Major!"

Lorne held his hands up to show they were empty.

"Yeah, probably got it squirreled away in your jacket, just waiting for the full moon," he mumbled to himself and pulled his t-shirt off and draped it across the bush. He expected to shiver once cold air hit his skin, then remembered he had a thick layer of fur now. _Okay, this isn't so bad_, he thought as he undid the tie on his sweats. Those proved a little trickier to pull off with his claws, but he managed to without falling on his ass, and now just stood there in his boxers. "Oh, man," he mumbled, then glanced quickly at Ronon and Lorne again. Cheesy grins. No camera. Off they came and _now_ he felt the cold air on truly bare skin. It was nice to know some things didn't change when he _changed_. He was in the process of tucking his shorts into his sweats when a thought, no, a couple thoughts hit him. "Um, this is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Probably not any more than it did earlier," John replied. Teyla nodded.

"Okay. Okay. That wasn't so bad. Short, incredibly short. Brief flare, really. Not as bad as a stubbed toe, but doable. I can handle that." Rodney's hands came up, his fingers fluttering briefly. "Um, how the hell do I do this?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. Picture yourself as a real bear. Not able to, remember?"

"Right. Right. Visualization. I am a bear. I am a bear." Rodney scrunched his eyes down tight and tried to picture himself on all fours, ambling around, his arms, no, all his _legs_ the same length. _I am a bear. I am a…._ His concentration was interrupted by Lorne.

"Uh, doc? No offense, but you look like you doing something else a bear does in the woods there."

Rodney's eyes popped open and he flipped Lorne off. _Okay, no facial expressions_, he thought as he closed his eyes again and concentrated all his incredible intellect on that one single image of a bear. Yogi let out a triumphant roar in his head just as that oily sliding feeling hit again. The pain was minimal – mostly in his hips and shoulders – then it was gone. He was down, his chin flat on the ground, and he could feel his ass sticking up in the air. "Oh, man – that felt awful," his brain told him he'd said out loud, but what he _heard_ was a long drawn out grumble that ended in a snort. He started to get to his feet – and that was another really odd sensation – and it wasn't until he had shuffled halfway around the bush that he realized he hadn't ordered his body to get up.

"Dr. McKay?" Teyla called.

Rodney felt his head swivel towards her on its own. _Holy crap_, he grumbled as he saw her – she seemed to be surrounded by a faint halo of pearlescent light, and her face…. He mentally went silent with shock, and Yogi made his body step forward another foot.

"McKay?"

The tone was soft but enough to make Yogi retreat the step he gained and Rodney felt a little control return. He squinted at Sheppard, and swallowed. There was another image seemingly superimposed over the man – the body shape was similar, but the head was pure jaguar – that practically crackled with power. And it looked pissed. He shook his head and backed up yet another step.

"Doc? You all right?"

Rodney swiveled towards Lorne and Ronon. Ronon looked the same, but Lorne…. A faint cloud like blood in water swirled around him and Yogi bristled. A low growl boiled up out of his chest and powerful legs tensed to charge.

_Oh, no you fucking don't_, Rodney bellowed in his head and seized control in mid leap. He hit the ground as his body fought to follow another set of orders and his legs just didn't know what the hell to do. _My body, asshole. You want to live here? Well, my lab, my rules. Get used to it._ Since the visualization seemed to work so well earlier, he imagined tackling the oily shadow – only this time it was a, a big black bean bag – and wrestling it to the ground with the intention of shoving it into a really big mental pet taxi.

The bean bag fought back.

_Oh, shit_, Rodney thought as he was thrown free. _That isn't possible_, the inner scientist babbled. _Oh, shut the hell up! Can't you see I'm busy here? _Rodney screamed back and landed on the bean bag again. It bucked, but he held on and started pummeling it. _I did not get two doctorates, spend five years in a craphole of a lab in the middle of the desert reverse engineering alien tech, not to mention that year in Siberia, to _finally_ get the only job on this entire planet that could showcase my brilliance just to become some alcoholic mutant teddy bear's bitch!_ The bean bag started to shrink. No – flatten out. And it seemed to be sticking to his fists. Or what he imagined were his fists, anyway, in this truly wacked out Kubrickian hallucination. _Oh, and I can recite pi to the fourteenth decimal point in my sleep. Can you? No? Hah! Didn't think so._ The shadow was nearly gone, but his arms were dark up to his shoulders. _So, Yogi, as long as you're in _my_ head – it's my way or the highway!_ One last punch and the shadow disappeared, but was followed by another sliding sensation. Only this time it wasn't unpleasant – it was a lot like putting on a pair of worn but familiar jeans and his "I'm With Genius" shirt.

_Hey, that's different_, Rodney thought before he passed out.

-oOo-

They all saw Rodney come out from behind the juniper, but Teyla was the first to sense something wasn't quite right. John picked it up a second later and started forward only to be stopped by Teyla's hand in the middle of his chest. "Wait," she said and cocked her head. Her eyes widened, then she cried out and cradled her head. John caught her, but he was bristling and growling and it was clear he wanted to do nothing more than charge forward. "Wait," she said again, her voice tight with pain. "He's … fighting it. Please, John. Patience."

Ronon and Lorne came up, zats drawn, and they all watched helplessly as Rodney thrashed around on the ground, his claws boxing at air, then ripping huge clods of earth free as he rolled over and over. Twice more Teyla stopped John from interfering, and as she held him back with one small hand on his chest she could feel his deep growl that was completely drowned out by Rodney's roaring.

When Rodney finally fell silent and collapsed the softer roar of the surf felt practically deafening.

Teyla started for Rodney and this time John held her back. She whirled on him. "It is safe now."

John met her copper bright eyes for a moment, glanced briefly towards Rodney, then nodded and let go. They both were by Rodney's side a second later, Lorne and Ronon still covering the prone body. Teyla knelt and carefully cradled his head in her lap, her hand settling on his forehead as she started tracing a thumb between his eyes. And even though he could see Rodney's sides heaving with every rapid breath, John still had to place a hand there to reassure himself the man was still alive.

"What the hell happened?" Lorne gritted out between clenched teeth.

"He, um, fought Yogi," John said, his voice slightly awed. Just like the first night when he went alpha, he could sense the shadow of the bear around Rodney when he stepped out from behind the bush. Then something else rose up, and though he didn't actually see it with his own eyes, he could tell it was, well, bright. Very bright. Staring into the noon sun bright. And mad as hell. Now the shadow was gone. John looked up at Lorne and Ronon. "He won."

Ronon was the first to deactivate his zat and tuck it away. Lorne hesitated until Teyla looked up at him and nodded.

Rodney groaned and it almost sounded like a long drawn out _ow_ that ended in a grunt. A blue eye cracked open and looked up at Teyla. She laughed, and the sound was pure joy. "Yes, Dr. McKay – you are alive."

"Hey, buddy," John drawled and moved into Rodney's line of vision. "Looks like you need a bath."

Rodney lifted his head enough to look down at his front legs and dirt encrusted paws. He made a deep gurgle that ended in a disgusted snort and let his head fall back onto Teyla's lap. She grinned. "He said…."

John held up a hand. "No translation needed. I know, I know – asshole."

Rodney snorted wearily and let his eyes drift shut. Not even thirty seconds later a bearish snore burbled out of him.

-oOo-

_Five days later…._

Rodney watched the ocean disappear as Lorne brought 'Jumper Two over a beach and headed inland to Vancouver's airport. The Major was kind enough to bring them in for this meeting since he had to make a run to Seattle to pick up a couple of scientists from the University of Washington, but they were going to have to take the supply boat back, and he was so not looking forward to that. He was still feeling a little queasy from the bug he caught while he was strung out just before the full moon and decided to hit full force the day _after_ the last night of the full moon, and he just knew he was going to be puking over the side the second they left port. He had some Dramamine in his pocket, but that was just going to be a placebo the way his stomach felt at the moment, but at least the Immodium seemed to be holding….

He glanced up at the only other occupant in the passenger cabin, Zelenka, and thanked God the man had gotten over his kimchi craving. He was actually safe to be around, olfactory speaking, and he could now smell the man's base scent – he had a bit of a shorted out electronics and hot soldering iron smell about him. It made his nose tickle. He rubbed at the balm on his upper lip and released another wave of mint and eucalyptus. That helped.

Sheppard was sitting in the co-pilot's seat, and he could see him and Lorne doing a lot of laughing at the moment. Probably pilot bonding stories. Aerial no-shit-there-I-was tales of heroic landings with no engines or landing gear or something or other.

"Well, it is good to see your surly attitude has remained unscathed by this whole incident," Zelenka said and pushed up his glasses. "You haven't quit scowling since we left Atlantis."

"It's my stomach," Rodney replied with a sneer. "Do you have any idea what this is all about? Because really, I should be in bed. Still."

"For the hundredth time, Rodney – no."

"Well, he's your friend. You _should_ know."

Zelenka sighed. "All I know is that Pavle did not want to send over internet or phone, even though we have best security in the world."

"Huh. Pussy."

"No, wolf."

Rodney sneered again.

It only took a few more minutes to reach the airport, and when Lorne brought the Sikorsky down by the private hanger owned by the conglomerate that ran Atlantis the first thing he saw was a huge black limo idling in front of the closed bay doors.

Sheppard was the first to get out, and he looked pretty ominous himself all in black – black jeans, black boots, black button-up shirt, black leather jacket, dark sunglasses…. Really, he knew the man liked Johnny Cash, but that was taking it just a little too far. He held open the passenger cabin door, and as soon as Rodney and Zelenka were past the rotors he rapped on the cockpit canopy and flashed Lorne a thumbs-up before he, too, was trotting over to the limo.

The down blast from the take-off was still whipping everyone's hair around when the back door of the limo opened and Pavle stepped out. His long pony tail flapped briefly but nothing escaped. He drew his chin back, opened his arms wide, and grinned at Zelenka. "Kolega!"

Rodney rolled his eyes at the cheek kissing thing again.

Pavle looked at Rodney, and thankfully that was all he did. "Dr. McKay – you look well."

Rodney was pale, had bags under his eyes that he could pack a weekend to Vegas in, and hadn't shaved in three days, but he knew what Pavle was getting at. "I feel great," he said, a crooked smirk lighting his face. He hadn't felt Yogi burble or grumble or growl since that last night of the full moon, and quite frankly, when the next full moon came around, he didn't expect to. He no longer had a sentient shadow lurking over his shoulder. No. Now his shadow was his own, albeit a bit darker and heavier feeling, but he was in control, and nothing was going to change that.

Now if he could just quit having the Viking dreams…. Those were odd, especially when the only Vikings he were familiar with were sausages dipped in batter and deep fried.

Rodney watched Pavle narrow his eyes down and regard him. The grin that broke out on the werewolf prince's face even made Rodney grin goofily. "That is very good to hear. Very good." Then he focused past Rodney and his smile was gone in an instant. Rodney looked over his shoulder and saw Sheppard standing there, hands on hips, his mouth drawn into a tight line. All the little hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he casually scooted back the few steps that would take him out of the direct line of fire, because seriously – all his new found little werebear senses were screaming in warning right now. He crossed his arms over his chest and chewed on a thumbnail.

Zelenka also backed up, his gaze going back and forth between the two still men. Correction – _princes_.

"So," John drawled out rather lazily. "You're Lupis."

"You're Onca," Pavle replied just as nonchalantly.

"Long way from home."

"Same could be said for you."

"Not my home anymore." John shrugged. "You know that."

"Yes. I do." Pavle casually started to walk to his left. John countered. "But you're Patrick's son. Surely you have plans."

John grimaced, his eyebrows rose above his sunglasses, and he shook his head. "No."

Pavle grunted. They continued to circle each other. "I'm surprised they let you live."

"Dear old Dad was feeling magnanimous that day."

"Not very wise of him."

John just shrugged.

Rodney couldn't take it any longer, the alpha pheromones in the air were making him dizzy, and he was really really tired. "Oh, Jesus … would you two just, just hurry up and sniff each other's butts or something? Because really – this is getting stupid." He snapped his fingers. "Chop chop. I'm _dying_ here." Both vargyrs stopped and faced Rodney. "You had information?" he said to Pavle. "So, let's see it so I can ride the Vomit Tugboat back home and sleep!"

Zelenka's mouth hung open and he backed away from Rodney.

John was the first to crack a grin and chuff. He glanced sideways at Pavle and saw the man had his head cocked and looking incredibly amused. He pointed at Rodney. "Is he always this…."

"Lippy?" John supplied. "Yeah."

"I am so sorry."

"Eh, you get used to it."

"Okay, butt sniffing over." Rodney made a _gimme_ motion. "Share."

Pavle was chuckling as he pulled a Blackberry out of the inside pocket of his cashmere overcoat and started keying up an image. "We found some tattoos on the vargyr that bit you, Dr. McKay, and they had my people baffled for the longest time." He turned it around for Rodney. "It took our clan historians awhile to track one of them down."

Rodney took it out of his hands and looked at the image, and John and Zelenka crowded around to see. It was a wrinkly old man's torso, and over his heart was an age faded tat about four inches high of a part man, part bear figure that vaguely resembled an old cave painting done in black and ochre. There were other tattoos as well – intricate woven designs along his collar bones, around his biceps, and one dark unidentifiable blob on a forearm that may have been black at one time but were now a diluted indigo, the lines and details blurred with age. There were some pale blue markings around one eye as well, but it was impossible to tell it was actually a tattoo or not. Could be veins for all Rodney could tell. "What exactly am I looking at besides an old man in need of a bath and moisturizer?"

"Clan markings," John supplied. "The older European clans tend to do that."

Pavle nodded. "And this most certainly qualifies."

"I see an Irish mark, a Norse…." John started but was interrupted.

"You know your clans?"

John gave a one shouldered shrug. "Wasn't my choice." He lifted his sunglasses and peered closer at the image. "I don't recognize the man/bear tat."

"That's because that clan has been extinct for over seven centuries," Pavle said. He took his Blackberry back. "Or so we thought."

"What?" John put his sunglasses back on. "The only extinct clan I know of is Draconis."

"This one is a subclan of Ursus," Pavle replied. "Or, if you look at different histories, the progenitor of Ursus. These vargyrs were cave bears."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Rodney said. "Cave bears?"

"As in Pleistocene, ice age, wooly mammoths, saber tooth cats cave bears?" Zelenka added.

"Yes."

"Well, that explains why you don't _look_ like a regular bear," John said. "Got that blunt muzzle, long front arms, tiny ears…."

Pavle looked genuinely curious. "I would like to see that. But, I digress. This clan was known for its unheard of strength and hired out as mercenaries eager to fight in whatever war they could find. Very aggressive, had reputations as fearsome warriors who wouldn't stop until pretty much hacked to pieces. They ranged mainly across Northern Europe and Russia, and in some of the information the historians found they were even referred to as god bears. I wouldn't be surprised if the Berserkers of Norse history were of this clan. Or imitators."

"Oh, great," Zelenka muttered and rolled his eyes. "God bear. His ego is bad enough as is." He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

"How old was that guy?" Rodney squeaked out, then glared at Zelenka.

Pavle shrugged. "At least seven hundred years. Some vargyr can live over fifteen hundred."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Wererats. Already told us about those." Rodney crossed his arms and seemed to be hugging himself. He suddenly frowned, but it was more in curiosity than consternation, and glanced up at Pavle. "God bear, huh?"

"Here we go," Zelenka mumbled and threw his hands up.

Pavle grinned. "Revered for their size and strength, not for any divine powers."

Rodney's head waggled sheepishly. "Of course. I figured that much out."

John chuffed.

Pavle's grin faded. "You have a very old and powerful spirit within you, Dr. McKay, and you are now the last of the god bears. This is why I could not share this information over the internet."

John rubbed his mouth. "Other clans would like to have a piece of that," he said quietly.

Rodney actually got a bit paler than he already was.

"Is this place you work secure?" Pavle asked.

"Very," all three men replied in unison. "And I will make sure he remains his own … man," John added.

Pavle stared at John, his amber eyes narrowing, his expression calculating but not hostile. John studied him just as intently back, and the silence that stretched between the two started to get uncomfortable. Rodney and Zelenka both jumped when the wolf prince's face split into a grin that showed all four fangs. "I believe you." He held out his hand.

John took it without hesitation. "You know, for a dog, you're not half bad."

"And for a Sheppard, you seem surprisingly reasonable."

John let out a coughing bark of laughter. "Yeah, don't let the family hear that."

Rodney found himself grinning rather goofily – this alpha pheromone thing did have its fun moments. Or maybe he was just loopy from the flu. Didn't matter which, however, just as long as he could still play with the coolest toys on the planet and get the Nobel Prize some day.

"Say, we have quite a few hours to kill before our ride leaves," John drawled. "How does pizza and beer sound?"

"Nasty," Rodney muttered.

"Wonderful!" Pavle replied.

"I know great place down by the waterfront," Zelenka added.

"Then let's go – I have the ride." Pavle opened the back door to the limo and gestured everyone in. John and Rodney crawled in first, and as they settled in the leather seats they heard Pavle say, "By the way, Radek – the strangest thing happened when I open your last e-mail…."

Rodney practically choked, then luckily could disguise it with a coughing fit and drowned out the conversation outside the limo. He saw John raise an eyebrow at him – damn him and his vargyr senses anyway – and he waved him off. "Never mind, I'll, ah, e-mail you later."

Nearly seven hours later Rodney was the only sober one and was having a helluva time herding Sheppard and Zelenka down the pier to their waiting ride. He was grumpy, and beyond tired, and had to make the chauffeur take him to a drug store to get more Immodium, and his back hurt from sleeping in the back of the limo while the terrible trio decided to hit as many disreputable looking bars as possible between the pizza joint and the Atlantis dock, and if he heard one more chorus of "Girls Girls Girls" – in English and Czech simultaneously – he was seriously going to channel his inner god bear and go berserk on a few asses. They were almost to the boat when Zelenka suddenly made the unmistakable _glrk_ of impending drunken sickness and put a hand to his mouth. Sheppard just calmly grabbed the smaller man by the back of his jacket collar, marched him over to the edge of the pier, and just held him out at quite an extreme angle, one handed, so the man could get sick over the water. Rodney had to turn away and plug his ears because, hello, on the verge of doing the same thing himself, and the sound was _not_ helping.

Then he had a sudden stab of jealousy that Zelenka wasn't puking on a were-whatever. Sometimes life was _so_ not fair….

_~Finis_

_End Note: Never thought I'd get to type that last word there. Sheesh. Real life sucks. I want to live in this universe._


End file.
